


Triangulation and other games of numbers

by redsnake05



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Child Abuse, Coercion, Fanart, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-01
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer doesn't think he should believe Mike or Tom, at first, but he finds himself wanting to trust them. When he finds out what they've really been doing, he's lucky to also find something else that he actually can trust in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triangulation and other games of numbers

**Author's Note:**

> Also contains images, NSFW

Touring was not something Panic! were used to, not just yet. So, when Bill gave an invitation to join The Academy Is... on their bus for a drink, Spencer stood tall and put his hands on his hips, unsure of how to hold himself. Bill explained that everyone wanted to get to know them better, his friendly smile in place. Ryan looked uncertain, but Brendon bounced excitedly and Brent smiled back, both of them falling over themselves with promises to be there. Ryan arched one eyebrow at Spencer, who shrugged and aimed a half-smile at Bill. They would be there, even though it would probably take some time to reconcile Ryan to the fact.

When they climbed the steps of the bus, Ryan clutching a six-pack of coke in one white-knuckled hand with Spencer standing behind him, the front lounge seemed crowded, hot and full of noise. Spencer blinked a few times before the image resolved itself enough to make sense of, a dozen people and twice as many open bottles, the blue haze of smoke hanging grey near the ceiling. Then Bill was in front of them, tall and thin and confident in a way that made Spencer think uncomfortably of the way his t-shirt stretched over the slight pudge of his belly.

"Come in, come in," he said, waving his hand in a way that was probably meant to be magnanimous. It looked kind of floppy and drunken. Brendon was already bouncing on the sofa next to the bass player, Sisky, rather like an enthusiastic puppy, but Ryan just nodded stiffly. Bill noticed his cokes and beamed. "What do we have that mixes with coke?" he asked.

"We're not drinking," said Spencer, before Ryan had to answer, "and we can't stay long." Bill frowned for a second before his brow cleared.

"Of course, of course," he said, and Spencer wondered if he always repeated himself or if it was just a side effect of being drunk. He followed behind Ryan, Bill leading them both into the little kitchen area. "Somewhere," announced Bill, flinging his arms wide with dramatic flair, "there may be clean glasses."

Ryan's lip twitched and his eyebrow rose in a way that Spencer knew signalled amusement. Ryan was relaxing and Spencer felt the tension easing in his spine too. Ryan needed to be comfortable, that was just the way it was. Bill seemed harmless, good-natured and beaming, immediately plunging into talk about a book he'd read recently, his voice catching at metaphors. Ryan ducked his head and listened carefully, and Spencer knew that he was going to be okay.

Spencer stepped back, easing away from the conversation. He jostled into someone, turning with a quick apology on his lips. The other person, the closest one, reached out and steadied him. Spencer recognised Mike Carden and Tom Conrad leaning against the tiny table together and smiled nervously.

"Getting out of Bill's way when he gets excited about literature is always a good idea," said Mike, tugging him closer. Tom made room for him, leaning up against the edge of the table, and Spencer squeezed into the available space.

"He gesticulates," said Tom. He leaned a little into Spencer's side, drink clutched tight in his hand. It smelled sharp, just a little sweet. On Spencer's other side, just as close, Mike snorted.

"You don't even know what that word means," he scoffed.

"I fucking do," retorted Tom. "It was in the crossword yesterday." Spencer felt out of place between them, caught in the intersection of their talk. Then Tom seemed to realise that he was there. "Fuck, we're forgetting about Spencer Smith," he said. "Some fucking host you are, Mike Carden."

"You've got the last clean glass, Conrad," retorted Mike. "Be a gentleman."

"You don't know what _that_ word means," said Tom. Then he smiled at Spencer, showing small, sharp looking teeth. "It is true, though, I am a gentleman, and this was clean not too long ago. I can find another glass." He held out his glass to Spencer. Now that it was under his nose, Spencer could smell the alcohol more strongly. He felt like he wasn't sure what to do with his hands, where to put them. He rubbed his palms nervously down the front of his jeans.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/la_dissonance/pic/000cp0d1)

"I don't drink," he said. "Ryan has our cokes." Tom blinked a few times, like he wasn't quite sure what Spencer could mean by that. Spencer looked from him to Mike, still on his other side. Mike just gave a twisted, partly incredulous smile, and reached out for the cokes that Ryan had now put down on the bench. He handed one to Spencer wordlessly. Spencer smiled and took it, sure that they could both see how nervous he felt.

"Thanks," he said.

"Well, don't you have a pretty smile," said Mike. He grinned, wide and kind of frightening. Spencer arched an eyebrow. The kind of mocking edge to Mike's smile was something he was used to dealing with. He knew he looked kind of bitchy, but he didn't care, so long as it worked. Mike's smile, impossibly, got wider.

"I wanna see," said Tom. "We've only got Bill, whose default is some kind of wistful smirk or something." Spencer felt his cheeks heating.

"Maybe if you'd done something nice for him, you'd get to see his pretty smile too, Conrad," said Mike.

"I offered him my drink," said Tom. He wound his arm around Spencer and squeezed him. Spencer was vaguely aware of the softness of his own skin, the way he was still a little squishy around the waist. Tom didn't comment, just digging his fingers into the skin bared between the top of Spencer's girl jeans and the bottom of his t-shirt. "How about a smile for me too?" he cajoled. Spencer risked a glance at him through his bangs, feeling uncertain. As his body shifted, Tom's hand slid, resting low on his spine above his waistband. Mike slid closer, pressed along Spencer's side and back with his chin hooked over his shoulder. "Fuck you, Carden, I bet you didn't get a smile as pretty as this one," Tom said.

"Fuck you both," said Spencer, shaking his hair back and glaring. He felt hot, a little unsettled, but his voice was calm. He'd honed his amused and dismissive edge, and it held true no matter how nervous he felt. "I am not a fucking girl." He was sure they were fucking with him, trying to make him feel uncomfortable in the sort of hazing Panic! had been dealing with since they started touring.

Mike's hand skittered over Spencer's chest, fingers stroking over the transfer on his t-shirt. "Is this a unicorn?" he asked. "It's frolicking."

"There's embroidery on your jeans pockets," said Tom.

"Hey, you're the ones noticing what I'm wearing. Perhaps you're both too ashamed to admit that you read Teen Vogue?" Spencer instilled his voice with maximum scorn. Mike just laughed, a low, rough sound that made Spencer shiver a little, and his hand flattened on Spencer's chest. Tom scratched his short nails over the small of Spencer's back, making his skin prickle, and he smiled, teeth just peeking out.

"Spencer!" said Ryan, tugging on Spencer's wrist. Spencer looked away from Tom and Mike drew back a little from behind him. Bill was at the sink, pouring another drink, and Ryan looked looser and happier than Spencer had seen him since they'd left Vegas three days ago. "You have to come and hear this," he said, pulling on Spencer again. Tom pulled back just a little, his hand sliding away from Spencer's skin in a rough drag that made him bite his lip at the sensation.

"Come back and smile again some time," said Mike, face pressed into Spencer's hair for an instant before he moved back to let Spencer move. Spencer kind of wanted to stay right there, even though he was more than half convinced they were playing some game. Ryan tugged on his hand, though, so Spencer eased out from between them and gave them a scornful look that he hoped covered his uncertainty.

"Maybe, when you both admit your fetish for teen fashion," he said.

He stepped away with Ryan, but not before he heard one of them mutter behind them, "I'm willing to admit to whatever fetish he suggests, what about you?" He could feel his ears burn, but Spencer ignored it and concentrated on Ryan instead.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Spencer's back ached. He'd been curled up for too long in an uncomfortable dressing room chair trying to read some novel Ryan had thrust into his hands. He tossed the book onto the empty sofa and stood. He was blissfully alone for a few minutes, his band having gone to get food. Folding his hands together, he stretched up towards the ceiling, twisting slightly to work the kinks out of his spine. Warm, rough hands slid over the bare skin of his sides, followed by a hard body pressed up against his back.

"Hi," said Mike, mumbled into the soft skin of Spencer's neck. Spencer jumped, hands coming down and back tensing up. "It's just me, go back to what you were doing."

"Reading?" asked Spencer warily. He wasn't sure what Mike was doing here. Mike chuckled, lips warm and soft against Spencer's skin.

"That stretching thing," said Mike. He pressed kisses up Spencer's neck. "It looked pretty fucking amazing." Spencer slowly relaxed, arms dropping to his sides. He hadn't seen Mike or Tom since the night of the party a few days ago, and he hadn't really been expecting to see them. He'd chalked their behaviour up to drunken joking and done his best to forget about it. Despite that, here was Mike standing behind him in the dressing room, one hand on Spencer's hip and the other hand low on his belly, on the bare skin above his waistband. Spencer shivered and Mike added a few nips of teeth to his leisurely travels over Spencer's neck. Maybe there was more to Mike's behaviour than mocking.

"So amazing that you couldn't keep your hands off me?" Spencer asked. Mike mumbled something that might have been agreement into his skin, his hand skimming up and under Spencer's t-shirt. Spencer felt a bit stupid and a lot hot, starting to get turned on by Mike's proximity, his hands and mouth. His band could be back any moment and he could only imagine the mocking that would follow if they caught him making out with Mike in the dressing room. "My band will be back soon."

"I saw your band going to get food," Mike said. His fingers were stroking circles on Spencer's chest. "They'll be a while." The hand on Spencer's hip slid down and over the front of his thigh before Mike dragged it back up to rest on the button of his jeans. Spencer gasped, one hand shifting to grasp Mike's wrist.

"We shouldn't," said Spencer.

"Kiss me just a little bit," replied Mike. Brushing his thumb over one of Spencer's nipples, mouth moving over the sensitive skin under Spencer's ear. "You have the most beautiful smile. I wanna see it after I've been kissing you, with your lips all swollen and red from my mouth." Spencer bit back a moan. Ryan would mock him for days if they were caught, but it was hard to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea when he was hard in his jeans and Mike was making all his nerve endings spark. Mike urged him to turn, shifting his hands around Spencer's body and stepping them backwards until they were against the wall. He didn't give Spencer time for more protests, licking into his mouth without waiting for arguments. He didn't taste like alcohol, just like cigarettes lingering under mints.

Spencer twined his fingers in Mike's hair, short nails scratching over his nape. Mike's mouth was determined, aggressive, and Spencer moaned into the kiss as Mike sank his teeth into his lower lip, just a little too roughly. Hands anchored on Spencer's hips, spread wide over his skin and pushing his t-shirt up, Mike ground forward against him. Spencer spread his legs a little more, feeling vaguely dirty just from this, kissing and touching in a dusty dressing room. He was fully hard now, cock aching in his pants, and he could feel Mike hard against his hip. It was hard to remember that they had to stop.

The sound of Disney songs in the hallway made Spencer shove at Mike's shoulders. That had to be Brendon. Mike kissed him one last time, ruthlessly hard, before he stepped back. He was breathing hard, flush crawling over the top of his cheeks. Spencer wanted to walk him backwards across the room and kiss him again, but the sound of the singing was getting closer.

"Fuck, that kid needs to meet Walker," said Mike, somewhat incomprehensibly. Spencer could only guess it was about the singing. He wanted to grab Mike's wrist and ask him questions, but there was no time. He looked at Mike instead, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his hips. Mike's gaze travelled down his body, hot and wanting. "I will definitely see you later," he said, reaching out to stroke his thumb over Spencer's jaw. Spencer smiled, he could feel it blooming over his face, and Mike smiled in return. It was a dark, edgy grin. "That smile is worth it," he said.

Turning, Mike was out through the door in an instant, leaving Spencer alone in the room for a few moments to catch his breath before Brendon bounded in, Brent and Ryan trailing behind him with their arms piled with bags and paper cups. Brendon was still singing as he spun round in the centre of the room, jostling Ryan as he aimed for the couch to put down his parcels. Spencer fought down the urge to touch his fingers to his lips, slipping back into his role and setting his band to order around him.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Spencer had been sure that everyone would see him and know what he and Mike had been up to in the dressing room, but his bandmates seemed oblivious. Even Ryan just snuggled into his side and stole his chips in handfuls, bony shoulder digging into Spencer's ribs. The only person who had appeared to notice was Tom Conrad, eyes raking over Spencer and lingering on his still swollen lips as he came off stage after Panic's set. The look he'd given Spencer was unreadable, but Spencer had thought nothing of it.

Tom caught him later, outside the venue, grasping his wrist in strong fingers and tugging him away, down a narrow hallway. "Come on," Tom urged, "do you know how hard it is to get you alone?"

Spencer laughed and followed him to a deserted room, tiny and dark, full of broken chairs and boxes. Spencer opened his mouth to ask what was so important that Tom had to ambush him, but Tom's mouth on his stifled his words. Spencer gasped into the kiss, one of his wrists still held tight in Tom's fingers, but the other hand coming up to push at Tom's chest. Tom pulled back, letting go of Spencer's wrist to trail his fingertips up Spencer's arm, the other hand sliding round his neck.

"I've been thinking of that all day," Tom said. He was still close enough that his breath tickled on Spencer's throat. Spencer shivered and Tom pulled him closer, moving them backwards. "Come on," Tom repeated, tugging on Spencer insistently.

"We haven't finished packing," said Spencer. He needed to get back to his band, but Tom's fingers were tracing little circles on the inside of his elbow and Spencer's skin felt hot all over. He wasn't sure what this was about, but Tom seemed intent, eager to get to touch Spencer, settling down onto a listing sofa and pulling Spencer down to straddle his lap. Spencer felt awkward, all limbs that he was unsure how to move. But Tom just pressed kisses along his jaw, mumbling into his skin.

"You look so fucking good," he said. "I've been watching you all day." Spencer put his hands on Tom's shoulders. One of Tom's hands moved down, calluses dragging softly over the skin of Spencer's back where his jeans had ridden down. The thumb of the other traced over Spencer's jaw, tilting his head so that Tom could tug on his lower lip, teeth digging into the soft skin. Spencer's fingers tightened and he opened his mouth, kissing Tom with only a trace of nervousness. Tom breathed a moan into the kiss, pressing down with his hand on Spencer's back, dragging him more firmly into contact with Tom's body. This kiss was slightly rough, an edge of dirtiness to the slide of Tom's tongue and the drag of his stubble over Spencer's skin. Then Tom shifted, bringing their groins together. Spencer tipped his head back and moaned. He felt turned on, hard in his jeans. He would have been ashamed of the way he rocked down into Tom if it hadn't been for the jerk of Tom's hips and the way his fingers tightened, probably hard enough to leave bruises on the skin of his waist.

"Fuck, that sounds good," breathed Tom, "feels good too. Gonna moan for me again, baby?" He kissed Spencer's neck, right under his ear, following it up with a bite that made Spencer exhale shakily with a low noise. Tom bit again, sharp teeth worrying the skin, and this time Spencer's moan broke in the middle as Tom sucked the skin hard. "You like that?" he asked. Spencer moved, settling lower into Tom's lap, feeling Tom's hands both settle on his ass, warm and demanding. Spencer could hear a voice in the distance, someone shouting. Tom groaned and tipped his head back, squeezing his hands tight for an instant.

"Shit, fucking Walker," he said. Spencer's fingers tightened again on Tom's shoulders for an instant before he realised that someone was calling Tom's name. Tom was heavy-lidded, his mouth red and wet. Spencer could feel the flush crawling over his own skin, the low burn of arousal. He reluctantly slid off Tom's lap, standing on slightly shaky legs. He was back to feeling awkward, but Tom just stood too, pulling him close and pressing one last kiss to his lips. His thumb pressed over the bite mark on his neck and Spencer shivered. "I'm finding it hard to walk away from you," said Tom. "I'll catch you later." Spencer smiled then, and Tom ran his thumb over his lips. "You're not making it easier," Tom said.

Spencer leaned back against a box, watching Tom walk away. His head was spinning with unanswered questions, but the buzz of arousal was still urgent under his skin. He breathed deeply and waited for an instant before he left the room to find his band and finish packing. He hoped that Ryan hadn't tried to pack his kit.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Tour time was both fast and slow. Spencer felt like he was constantly tired and in need of sleep. He unrolled his practice pad and rummaged in his bag for his sticks. There was a low whistle from the door and he straightened quickly, glancing over his shoulder. Ryan was leaning there, against the frame, and Spencer told himself that he wasn't disappointed.

"Where the fuck have you been?" bitched Spencer instead, settling his face into a pissy mask that he hoped Ryan was oblivious enough to believe in today. Spencer could hear Brendon coming down the hallway too, laughter and snatches of Disney songs heralding his arrival.

"Hanging out," said Ryan, moving further into the room. "Do you need to practice now?"

"I suppose not," said Spencer. He left the pad out, though, just rolling it back up. He did need to practice sometime, and having his sticks in his hand was an effective deterrent against Brendon in his spazzier moods. Ryan fitted himself into Spencer's side with the ease of long practice, dragging him down onto the sofa. He looked up as Brendon bounced in, followed by someone else. Spencer was sure he had seen the dude before, but that was it. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Ryan, but it was Brendon who answered.

"Spencer Smith, Spencer Smith, you have to meet Jon Walker. He knows all the words to Aladdin!" Spencer raised both his eyebrows at that, wondering how the hell Brendon thought that was a good recommendation.

"He's a tech for The Academy," said Ryan, his voice monotone as ever, but Spencer could hear his need for Spencer's approval under every word. Spencer was all Ryan had left, the last anchor in his life. He frowned. Ryan wanted him to like this guy. He took a closer look. The guy moved forward, smile open and projecting harmlessness. He looked solid and reliable, nothing special aside from the warmth of his eyes. Brendon was looking at him with adoration clear in his gaze, though, and the smile Ryan was directing at him showed genuine pleasure.

"Sorry," said Spencer, "I didn't catch your name the first time."

"Jon Walker," he said. "It's nice to meet you properly. Ryan and Brendon have told me so much about you." Spencer looked at him again, and it clicked, where he had heard the name before. He heard two echoes in his head, Mike and Tom and the way they had said it. Spencer hoped he wasn't flushing too much, but Ryan shot him a curious look as he held out his hand for Jon to shake.

"I hope it's all been good," Spencer managed. His voice didn't shake, and his hair was probably long enough to cover his ears, which he was sure were red.

"Every syllable," said Jon. Brendon caused a distraction at that point, wrapping his arm around Jon's neck and blowing a raspberry in Spencer's direction.

"Whatever," he said, "as if I'd say nice things about you, Mr Hide-the-coffee."

"And the sugar," said Spencer. "And I'll keep on doing it, too."

Brendon pouted and tugged Jon away to the mirror, chattering away to him as he dug through a bag on the counter. Ryan leaned into Spencer more, waiting without a word until Spencer sighed and looped an arm around him. Digging his bony chin into Spencer's chest, he looked up at him through his eyelashes and blinked, waiting silently for Spencer to speak. Spencer wanted to tell Ryan everything, about the bruises Tom had left on him yesterday, on the back of his neck under his hair and under his shirt, blue stains on his skin. He wanted to tell him about how Mike tasted bitter like cigarettes, but how his skin was smooth and his mouth hot. He didn't know where to start, though, with the uncertainty and his own insecurities. They were things he couldn't tell Ryan, not today. Not while Ryan was still clinging to his own belief in the band, still not really sure that they were going to make it. He was the only safety net Ryan had right now, and he couldn't endanger that. Instead, he glanced over at where Brendon and Jon were standing shoulder to shoulder at the mirror, then back at Ryan, raising his eyebrows again. He knew Ryan would get it, that he was asking what was so special about Jon Walker.

Ryan shrugged, long fingers playing with a pen. He didn't get it either then, Spencer decided. There was just something about Jon Walker that Ryan trusted. His mouth tightened for a moment, and he knew he was frowning when he looked back at Jon, now laughing at something Brendon had said and fending off his grabby fingers. Ryan had been known to be spectacularly wrong about the people he trusted sometimes, and it was Spencer who had to pick up the pieces. Brendon was no better, maybe even worse, since his need for affection and attention was so obviously open to exploitation. Jon looked up then, still laughing, and caught Spencer's frown. He sobered abruptly and looked down and away. Spencer looked down at Ryan, catching the end of a questioning look. He shook his head, trusting that Ryan would know that he hadn't meant anything personal with the scowl.

Ryan looked over at Brendon, levering himself up from Spencer's side. "Brendon, you touch my eyeliner and I will break every non-essential part of your body," he said. He stalked over to the mirror without a backwards glance at Spencer. Closing his eyes, Spencer tipped his head back against the sofa cushions. The seat next to him dipped and he turned his head and opened his eyes to see Jon looking at him with a smile much more tentative than the one he'd been wearing when he'd first come in to the room. Smiling back weakly, Spencer sat up reluctantly.

"Do you really know all the words to Aladdin?" he blurted. Jon's smile grew a little and he scrubbed his hand over his head ruefully.

"Yeah, the guys give me shit for it all the time," he admitted. He glanced at Ryan and Brendon, now locked in an urgent, low-voiced argument; Spencer followed his gaze. He knew he had to do something quickly, or there would be awkward silences from Ryan and wounded glances from Brendon coming his way for days.

"These two," he said, with a wave of his hand, "marathoned Julie Andrews movies one weekend, right before we left. Panic has no shame."

"I fit right in then, don't I?" asked Jon. His smile was back to its full, disarming brightness and Spencer's answering smile was clear and bright, the sure and confident one he could wear like a mask. He knew that Brendon and Ryan were watching, waiting to see what he said. He sometimes wished that they didn't need him like this, but he just patted Jon on the arm.

"Yep," he said. "It's all over for you." He let his smile fade into a smirk. "You'll never escape now that you've been adopted. Brendon will cling to you like a howler monkey."

"Hey!" protested Brendon, abandoning Ryan and bounding across the room to fling himself into Jon's lap. "Don't listen to him, Jon. I am _much_ cuter than a howler monkey." Ryan followed behind him, slumping down next to Spencer with a tiny smile playing around his mouth. Spencer punched him lightly in the thigh. He couldn't remember the last time Ryan had been so taken with someone so quickly, not without wanting to fuck them, anyway. He looked at Brendon snuggling into Jon, and back at the almost affectionate smile on Ryan's face. He thought that maybe this was something more than fucking for Ryan, and it was definitely genuine affection from Brendon. He wanted to feel happier about that.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Brendon looked pale and sweaty, Ryan pinched around the eyes and mouth, both of them with dark smudges proclaiming lack of sleep. Spencer wasn't sure he looked much better, tired of looking after them both. Ryan snuggled close into his side every chance he got, while Brendon did his best to act like he didn't need Spencer's attention. It was easy to blame the road, the willingness of the other guys to give Brendon alcohol, and Spencer wished he could do that. But Ryan was worried, and his indifferent mask would slip to show fear, and Spencer found himself shepherding a drunken Brendon onto the bus nearly every night, listening to him ramble about his family and his worries too.

Spencer slipped out a side door of the venue, taking a moment to breathe deep and look up at the sky, slumping against the wall. The little alleyway he had stepped into was dark and smelled, but it was quiet. Closing his eyes, Spencer concentrated on relaxing his shoulders. The door opened again and Spencer kept his eyes closed. He'd left Brendon asleep on a sofa in the changing room, so he was expecting this to be Ryan with his thin-lipped neediness. Instead, a mouth pressed a series of kisses against his throat and a hand, rough with guitar calluses, slid up his shirt.

Spencer didn't open his eyes. He wanted the mindlessness that would come with this, making out against the wall, but he was tired and irritable, and he still didn't know what the fuck Mike and Tom were playing at. They had both sought him out in the last day; Mike had licked over the marks Tom had left on his neck with a low growl before leaving more on his collarbone, just peeking out of his shirt. Tom had just grinned and bitten along the fresh marks left by Mike. Spencer lifted both hands and pushed. It didn't work.

"C'mon baby," breathed Tom, plastering himself closer to Spencer. He worked his knee in between Spencer's thighs, pressing their groins together. Spencer was stupidly hardening already and Tom was rocking against him, making a pleased noise against Spencer's skin. The hand on Spencer's chest moved, thumb rubbing over one nipple until it peaked. "You're so fucking hot," Tom said. "Been watching your bitchy face and your fuck me hips all fucking day."

"Not the time for this, Tom," said Spencer, pushing weakly again. He could hear the indecision in his voice, though, and his hands were ineffectual. Tom felt so good, the rough scrape of his stubble following his kisses, the hard pressure of his body pinning Spencer against the wall.

"Just a few kisses," Tom coaxed, both hands playing with Spencer's nipples now. Spencer moaned and Tom bit his earlobe and tugged gently, making him moan again. "Sound so good," said Tom. "I wanna eat you up." He kissed Spencer and Spencer gave up his resistance. His hands slid in different directions, one twining in Tom's hair and tugging, the other creeping round his waist to ruck up under his t-shirt at the back. Spencer still felt irritable and worried, but he let it come out in the roughness of his fingers in Tom's hair, the dig of his nails into Tom's back. Shifting slightly, he kissed Tom hard, working out his frustration in the bite of his teeth, the desperation of their tongues together.

Tom changed his stance, moving his thigh up and his hands down, grabbing Spencer's ass and grinding them together, dirty and so fucking satisfying. Spencer was all the way hard now, and he could feel Tom's dick digging into his hip too. Dragging his fingernails up Tom's back, Spencer arched into the movement. It felt so good, the sensation crawling under his skin and down his spine. He could forget his problems in the immediacy of Tom's touch, sublimate his bad temper into biting his way down Tom's throat. He left a crescent mark of teeth in the skin and Tom swore and jerked against him. The friction was rough, on the edge of too hard, but Spencer didn't care. He didn't care that he was minutes away from coming in his pants outside where anyone could find them, didn't care that he was angry and uncertain. All he had was the roughness of Tom's mumbled words into his skin, the harshness of their breath and want.

"Fuck," said Tom. "I wanna fuck you." His hands dug into Spencer's ass, hitching him even closer. "I want you on your knees, sucking my cock." Spencer pulled Tom's hair, his other hand shifting to rake his nails back down Tom's skin, doubtless leaving more marks. Twisting forward, relentless, Tom bit Spencer's lower lip and Spencer moaned. It felt so good, the grating rasp of their cocks together. Tom was all Spencer could taste, all he could feel, all jagged edges and thoughtlessness under Spencer's fingers and mouth.

Tom's phone rang, blaring shrill through the low, ragged sound of their breathing. Spencer slumped a little against the wall as Tom cursed raggedly. The tinny strains of a synthesised Disney tune faded, only to begin against almost immediately. Tom cursed again, more forcefully, untangling himself reluctantly from Spencer.

"Walker is the worst fucking cockblocker I have ever known," he grumbled, dragging the phone from his pocket and flipping it open. Spencer dragged in deep breaths, still dizzy and wavering between disappointment and relief. Tom snapped the phone shut with a hiss of annoyance. "I have to go," he said.

"Wait," said Spencer, all his frustration bubbling back to the surface. "What is this about?"

Tom just kissed him once more, dirty and just on the edge of brutal. "I really do have to go, baby," he said. "I'll see you soon, though, right?" He splayed one hand over Spencer's belly. "I hope to see more of you soon," he said, all dark, lustful anticipation. Then he was gone, back through the door, leaving Spencer aching hard and confused. Spencer heard the door slam behind him and scowled. His own phone started to ring, even Ryan's ringtone somehow sounding urgent and needy to his ears. He pushed aside thoughts of Tom and Mike, their demanding hands and dangerous, addictive lips, and answered his phone.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

The disorientation of waking up from a nap in an unfamiliar place was always there, constant for Spencer, though sometimes worse than others. He drifted awake now, not sure where he was or how he got there. He pushed at the heavy, unexpected weight of hands on his skin, moaning low and dazed against the wet drag of someone's mouth over his neck. The hands tightened, pinning him against the couch and he squirmed weakly, still mostly asleep.

"Fuck that's hot," said a voice, hot into his neck. Spencer concentrated on the tone and recognised Mike. He sagged back into the couch cushions, still trying to wake up. Mike's hands gentled, running up under Spencer's shirt and dragging over his stomach, then edging down to urge his thighs apart, making room for Mike to settle between them and press warm kisses to the newly exposed expanse of Spencer's belly. His stubble was rough over the tender skin and Spencer twisted lazily away from the friction. Mike's teeth scraped and bit, worrying at the skin, probably leaving marks.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/la_dissonance/pic/000ckcsk)

"Mike," he said, voice rough with sleep still. "What are you doing?"

"You're fucking gorgeous," said Mike, moving sideways to nibble on one of Spencer's hip bones. "I want to fuck you right here, while you're sleepy and warm, so soft and yielding." Spencer moved his hands, pushing at Mike's head. He was pretty sure they both meant something, Tom and Mike. He still wasn't sure what they wanted from him, but he was starting to not care. Their desire was constant, whatever their motivations. It was something Spencer could hold onto.

"Kiss me," said Spencer. Mike moved up over him, braced with one knee on the couch between Spencer's spread thighs. He kissed Spencer lazily, intently, and Spencer's mouth felt slow and uncoordinated in comparison. Mike didn't seem to care, just wrapping his fingers in Spencer's hair and shifting down to rest against him. Spencer's cock hardened in his jeans under the slow friction of Mike's hips rubbing against his and he managed to get his hands up, rubbing them slowly over Mike's back and down to slip into his pockets and press them even closer together.

Muttering words that Spencer couldn't make out into the kiss, Mike rolled his hips in a slow, indecent rhythm that had Spencer gasping and arching up. Mike's hand tugged on Spencer's thigh, opening up the cradle of his hips further, giving Mike more room in which to move. Spencer felt hot, still lazy and soft, open like Mike could sink right into him without resistance. Spencer wasn't sure that he would care. He just wanted more of Mike's mouth, urgent against his, starting to get an edge of desperation. He wanted to rock up against him, twining their bodies together like a knot to hold the burdens Spencer didn't want to carry.

Mike moved, using one hand to tilt Spencer's head back to get at his neck, pressing kisses down the skin, harder over marks old and new, the impressions left by Mike's teeth, or Tom's. Shuddering, Spencer moved, one hand coming up to drag his fingernails hard up Mike's back, listening with pleasure to the sharp hiss of Mike's indrawn breath. He wanted more of this, using his other hand to anchor Mike against him.

"Fuck," said Mike, moice muffled in Spencer's throat. "Jesus, I could eat you up. So fucking sweet." He moved harder against Spencer. "You love it, don't you?" he asked. Spencer moaned and arched up against him. He was already edging up that slope to orgasm, tense and urgent, all the dim unreality of before gone. He was awake and alive, every inch of skin sensitised.

A crash in the corridor made them both jump, reminding Spencer of where he was, in a dressing room with the door wide open. Mike cursed into his neck as the crash was followed by the noise of shouting. Spencer thought he recognised Brendon's voice and sagged back into the couch cushions, letting his hands slide away from Mike's skin. Mike sat up, leaving Spencer's skin cold, reminding him of how he probably looked, rumpled and soft. Mike dug his fingers in just above Spencer's waistband and let his gaze slide hotly down his body and back up.

"You look so fucking wrecked," he said. Spencer felt his cheeks get hotter. Then Mike levered himself up off the couch, running his fingers through his hair and putting himself back together. Spencer watched him, feeling a strange disconnect between the lust he could feel fading slowly in his body and the image of Mike in front of him. "I'll definitely see you later," Mike said. Then he was gone. Spencer rolled over and pressed his face into the cushions, ebbing lust leaving him slightly shaky. He concentrated on breathing deeply, listening to the murmur of voices in the corridor getting closer. He could hear Ryan's voice, and he was pretty sure Jon was with him.

"Here he is," said Ryan. Spencer didn't lift his face from the couch cushions.

"He's asleep," said Jon. "We shouldn't wake him."

"Like fuck he's asleep," replied Ryan, fond exasperation in his voice. Spencer couldn't tell if it was meant for him or for Jon. He lifted his head and looked over the arm of the couch at them both, but didn't move otherwise. "Don't fucking give me your bitchface," said Ryan. "We have your favourite food."

Spencer buried his head back into the cushions for a long moment. The hand he felt on his head, carding gently through his hair, wasn't Ryan's. He turned his head again, meeting Jon's eyes quizzically.

"We can go, if you want," said Jon, not taking his hand away even though he looked kind of awkward about it. Spencer looked from him to Ryan and slowly wriggled around, sitting up and trying hard to look rumpled from sleep only. Jon's hand slid away almost reluctantly.

"Nah," said Spencer. "I'm awake now."

Ryan gave him the tiny smile that passed for happiness and Jon just dropped down next to him and squeezed his arm companionably. He pressed over a bruise left by either Mike or Tom and Spencer winced, hiding it in a stretch and a yawn. Brendon bounded through the door then and flung himself onto the couch.

"Brent says he doesn't want to eat with a bunch of queermos like us," he announced brightly. "Maybe he thinks we'd put blowjob-liking powder in the burgers." Spencer felt his ears burn, thinking of what he'd just been doing on this very sofa. He glanced sideways to see the tops of Jon's cheeks stain pink and hastily looked back at his food. He hoped he'd be able to choke it down.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Hotel nights were few and far between, the time in real beds being eagerly looked forward to. Spencer looked forward to the luxury of the showers, hot water streaming over his shoulders and easing all the tension he held. He felt lighter after a shower, like some of his burdens had swirled down the drain with the dirt and suds. He got out and dripped onto the floor, drying himself with a fluffy hotel towel before padding out into the room he was sharing with Ryan, boxers clinging to still-damp skin.

Spencer didn't want to admit to the crawling feeling of anticipation in his stomach. He was tired of holding back with Mike and Tom, tired of waiting, of being interrupted. The only question was which one would find him first tonight. Spencer thought of all the things he wanted to do to them both, have them do to him. He briefly imagined Tom on his knees in front of him, lips stretched over Spencer's cock, or Mike lying over Spencer, holding his wrists and whispering in his ear. He flushed sharply and flung himself onto his bed before his erection became obvious. The door opened and Ryan came in, tension written in every tight line of his body. Spencer lifted himself onto his elbows, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

"George," he said, shortly. Spencer's heart sank, sinking even further as the phone rang again and the miserable frown on Ryan's face deepened. Nothing good ever came from phone calls from Ryan's dad, but he would never stop answering. Spencer watched in trepidation as Ryan's hands shook and his replies to whatever was being said got quieter and shorter. He snapped the phone shut and sat there, looking down at it in his hands. Spencer caught the movement before it even began and he was off his bed and onto Ryan's before the phone could leave his grasp. Fingers wrapped round Ryan's wrist, his other arm wrapped round his shoulders and squeezed him close. Ryan began to tremble in earnest then, shuddering hard with his face buried in Spencer's neck. Spencer thumbed the phone off and dropped it on the sheets.

Spencer knew that he just had to hold on. Once Ryan reached this point, no logic made sense. He needed the reassurance of someone close, someone holding him. It had terrified Spencer as a child, the first time he'd seen Ryan like this. He'd just locked his arms around Ryan and held on tight, some instinct telling him that comfort was the most important thing to do. It still made him feel small and helpless like it had then, clinging to Ryan and hoping that he would stop shaking and crying. At least Spencer knew Ryan was safe here, safer here where it was only his father's words battering him. Kneeling on the bed, Spencer shifted so that Ryan curled into his body, letting go of Ryan's wrist so he could loop his other arm around him too. He let Ryan work out the worst of it in his arms, all quiet, wounded noises and painfully dry eyes. Spencer's hand carded through his hair and he mumbled nonsense words into the top of his head. As Ryan's breathing eased, Spencer risked pulling back a little and easing Ryan away.

"Come on, get your clothes off and have a shower. I'll get some food," Spencer said. Ryan's long fingers grasped Spencer's wrists, reluctant to let him go. Spencer pressed a kiss to Ryan's forehead, closing his eyes for a long moment. Ryan tilted his face up and moved his own mouth over Spencer's, the kiss messy and off-centre. Spencer didn't kiss back, just moved back, thumb tracing over Ryan's jaw. "Hey," said Spencer, "you don't need sex to know that I love you. Remember?" Ryan gazed at him for a second, terrifyingly blank, before memory rushed back. He clung to Spencer again, folding him tight in strong arms and Spencer hugged back. This was horrifyingly familiar, the aftermath, when Ryan forgot that he didn't need to pay Spencer for his affection.

The knock at the door startled them both. Ryan shuddered in Spencer's arms before Spencer peeled him off and went to see who it was. "It's Jon," he said. Ryan tilted his head to the side for a second.

"Let him in," he said. "Let him stay." Spencer tried to hide his surprise, but he obeyed, opening the door. Jon's gaze raked over him and Spencer was conscious for the first time of his boxers and bare toes. He turned to find some sweats, embarrassed, though there had been no mockery in Jon's smile.

"Ryan was upset," Jon explained. "Is he okay?" He sounded worried, not mocking or scornful.

"I'm fine," said Ryan, slipping off the bed and standing shakily at the foot.

"You don't look fine," said Jon, reaching out to just touch Ryan's wrist, as if he'd done this a thousand times. Spencer turned back from tugging on his pants and a t-shirt to see Ryan smile and tilt his head.

"He's not fine," said Spencer, maybe sharper than he'd intended. "He needs to have a shower, get warmed up, and have something to eat."

"I can go and get some food," said Jon. "Um, if you want, if that would be helpful."

"I can go," said Spencer. He didn't know why this felt so hard, giving up Ryan to Jon like this. He supposed he felt raw, all his protective instincts on high alert. "Ryan needs someone to stay here with him." Jon blushed scarlet then, deep under his olive skin.

"Um, no, really, I'll go get the food," said Jon. Spencer glanced at Ryan, who looked merely worn and exhausted.

"Okay," said Spencer. He just wanted to get food into Ryan now. He grabbed his key card from the dresser and shoved it into Jon's hand with some cash. "Carbohydrates," he said, "maybe some juice."

"Okay," said Jon, obviously repeating the instructions to himself. He disappeared out the door with a hopeful look at Spencer, like he was maybe waiting for something. Spencer gave him a strained smile and turned back to Ryan. He pushed him down onto the edge of the bed.

"You know," said Spencer, dropping to his knees and starting to wrestle with Ryan's laces, "if you wore t-shirts and hoodies like the rest of us, it would be easier to get you naked."

Ryan snorted tiredly, fingers clumsy on the buttons. "No one has complained yet that unwrapping the package isn't worth it," he retorted. His voice was rough and low, but the thread of humour was there, even if faint. Spencer smiled up at him and slipped off his sneakers and pulled off his socks.

"Can you get your jeans off by yourself, or do I need to get more intimately acquainted with your package?" Spencer asked. Ryan dropped his shirt on the floor and started to peel off his undershirt.

"I can do it," said Ryan. "Wouldn't want you to forget your principles."

Spencer smiled up at him ruefully. "My principles are firmly intact," he said. Standing, he pressed another kiss to Ryan's forehead as he emerged from the undershirt. Ryan made a surprised noise and gripped Spencer's hand, squeezing tight. "I love you, idiot," Spencer said. Ryan made a little noise and dragged Spencer's hand up to his face, mashing his own kiss, rough and clumsy again, to the inside of his wrist.

Tugging himself free, Spencer smiled and went into the bathroom, running the bath hot and deep. Ryan walked in a few moments later, in his boxers, his bare skin cold and pale. Spencer spread his hand over the space between Ryan's shoulder blades, dismayed at how bony he felt. Ryan had always been skinny, but there was a sharpness to his collarbones and ribs that Spencer had hoped to never see again. He promised himself to watch Ryan more closely. While he waited for the bath to fill, he looped his arms loosely around Ryan and let him settle into Spencer's body for warmth. It had always been like this between them afterwards, quiet and still as Ryan built himself up again. He would be cold for hours, shivering in spite of the bath. Spencer stayed within reach, stopping the shaking with murmured words and trying to fill Ryan with his warmth.

Spencer left the room as Ryan slipped off his boxers and sank into the water. He crossed to Ryan's bed, picking up his bag and rifling through it for warm, clean clothes. He threw a t-shirt and sweats on the bed, found the phone and contemplated blocking George's number. He shoved it into Ryan's bag and crossed to his own. No messages on his phone. His mouth twisted for a moment, but Ryan needed him. There was no question of going anywhere tonight, no matter how tempting the oblivion that Mike and Tom offered him. He punched in a message to Brendon, hoping that the other boy would get it before he drank too much at the party in Bill's room. No one needed that scene tomorrow.

Jon knocked before opening the door and his face was oddly tentative as he poked his head in. "Hi," he said. "The dining room downstairs had a buffet. I got heaps. I haven't eaten, have you eaten?" He stopped babbling and took a deep breath. "I don't want to do anything wrong," he admitted with a rueful smile.

"Buffet food is usually good," Spencer said. He crossed and took the bags from Jon. "You remembered cutlery," he said, peeking inside. He put the food down on his bed and retrieved a tray from the dresser, dumping off the instant coffee sachets and bags of artificial sweetner.

"Jon thinks of everything," said Ryan. Spencer glanced at him, no longer shivering so hard but still looking chilled and drawn even wrapped in all the remaining towels.

"You should still be in the bath," he said. "Your clothes are on the bed."

"I should hang out with you all time," said Jon. "Someone's always half-naked." Spencer looked up from sorting the cartons of food. Jon looked more embarrassed looking at Ryan than he had looking at Spencer.

"There are probably several someones half-naked a lot more with The Academy," he said. "Here, we'll eat on this bed."

"All the mystery is gone with them," mourned Jon. He climbed onto Spencer's bed and settled himself next to him, reaching for the food that Spencer handed him. Ryan climbed up on Spencer's other side. Spencer handed him a plate and glared at him when he would have protested how much was loaded onto it. He forked up a mouthful of potato as Spencer opened the carton of juice and poured into paper cups.

"Eat everything," Spencer warned, setting the cups on the tray. Ryan poked out his tongue but ate obediently, washing it down with juice. The fine tremble of his fingers slowly eased. When he was done, Jon collected their rubbish, bundling it up in the plastic bags.

"Where's my phone?" asked Ryan. "He might try ringing -"

"No," said Spencer. "I've turned it off." Jon looked from him to Ryan and back again. "You can have it back tomorrow." Ryan set his jaw, turning away. Spencer didn't soften. Listening to the messages that were left on it would break Ryan's heart all over again, and they all needed to sleep before that happened.

"Um. I should get going," said Jon. Spencer looked at the worry in his eyes, the way he was fidgeting. He didn't know what was going on, but he wanted to make it better anyway he could. Spencer could see the sincerity in his face.

"Stay," said Ryan. He looked awkward. "It's better. I mean, if you don't mind sharing." He gestured towards his bed, the big one. There would be enough room for the three of them. Usually Brendon would be here, close against Ryan's back, and Spencer knew Ryan was missing him. This would be the first time he hadn't been there with the two of them since he'd left home. Jon looked torn, glancing back at Spencer again.

"Ryan sleeps better if he's got people in with him," said Spencer. He could do this, and it would be the right thing for Ryan. Comprehension was writ large on Jon's face and he moved towards the other bed.

"Okay, yeah, I can do that," said Jon. He kicked off his flip flops and the three of them wove through the ritual of bed time seamlessly. Jon fitted with them easily, shifting round their space and finding a place for himself in it. Ryan was settled in bed, head on Spencer's shoulder, as Jon, barefoot in boxers and his t-shirt, reached for the lights. A knock at the door startled them all and Jon paused. Spencer could see the indecision on his face.

"Come on, let me in," called Brendon through the door. "I'm completely sober and I just had a shower so I don't reek. Let me in, assholes." Ryan laughed into Spencer's t-shirt, the first sound of genuine amusement all evening. Jon opened the door and Brendon tumbled in. Brendon gave a squawk as he caught himself. "You started snuggling without me," he accused, already starting to toe off his sneakers.

"I should go now," said Jon, sidling towards his clothes. Ryan made a protesting noise and Brendon straightened abruptly.

"Oh, no, JWalk don't go," said Brendon. "There's room for you, too."

"Stay," said Ryan, sleepy already.

"If you want," said Spencer. He didn't want to pressure him into staying, but then he saw how Jon looked at them, Ryan snuggled into Spencer's chest, and decided that there was no pressure that could keep him away.

"Okay," he said.

"Awesome," enthused Brendon. "Panic! sleepover. It'll be a tight fit, but we're all pretty small." He crawled into the bed on the other side of Ryan. "Move over," he said, "Jon has to go behind you, Spencer." Spencer blinked, a little confused, but Ryan was already moving, and Jon was heading back to get in on his side of the bed. Spencer shuffled over, feeling Brendon moving to spoon Ryan from the back, Ryan already smoothing out into peaceful sleep. The bed dipped behind Spencer and he felt Jon settle close along his back.

"Sorry," he whispered, "there's not a lot of room." Spencer's cheeks prickled with heat as Jon's arm looped over him, palm resting decorously flat on his chest.

"It's okay," replied Spencer, just as quietly. "It's nice." It was, Spencer realised. He never got held like this, it was always him wrapped round someone else. He relaxed, slow and comfortable into the bed.

"Fuck," said Brendon. "You didn't get the light, Jon." Jon grumbled right into Spencer's neck, words slurring with sleep.

"You fucking get the light," said Spencer. "Jon has done more than his fair share tonight." Jon's arm tightened around him as Brendon bitched his way to the light and back.

"Thanks," said Jon. "I'd do anything to help you." Spencer felt warm and comfortable, sandwiched into bed with Ryan on one side and Jon on the other, Brendon's hand resting over Spencer's high up on Ryan's back. He closed his eyes and let sleep overwhelm him.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

The venue was a rabbit warren of backstage hallways and tiny little rooms, worse than any Spencer had seen before. He was looking for somewhere quiet to put down his practice pad, the closet that passed for Panic's dressing room being occupied by Ryan, asleep on the couch. He was still and quiet at last, the shadows under his eyes violet and his mouth still turned down. Brendon was leaning against the couch, protective of Ryan in his vulnerability. Spencer needed some time to himself, time to breathe without anxiety sitting heavily on his chest.

He heard the raised voices before he turned the corner of the corridor; the argument sounded heated. It was all low voices laced with bitterness and venom. Pausing, Spencer contemplated going another way. The last thing he needed was more noise and stress, but he hadn't passed anywhere suitable on the way here, and he could hopefully slip past the duo and find somewhere further on. Taking a deep breath, Spencer rounded the corner and stopped dead as saw Mike push Tom hard in the chest.

Every inch of their bodies screamed aggression and frustration. Tom didn't give an inch, his hands clenched by his sides as he cursed Mike, pointed invective leaving his mouth. Mike threw his hands in the air, his voice harsh. Neither of them saw Spencer as he stepped back into the shadows. He should leave, he knew, but this was the last side of the triangle the other two had been building round him, and he had to see it. He stayed in the shadows, ignoring the sick, sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Fuck you," hissed Tom. "You're fucking always like this, so fucking uptight."

"Maybe if you cared a bit more about things, you wouldn't be fucking up and I wouldn't be so uptight," Mike retorted. The argument sounded worn to Spencer's ears. The poison was fresh and pointed, but the content was old, niggling grievances from months or years past.

Tom shoved Mike this time, his hands flat on Mike's chest, spread wide. Mike's hand shot up and grabbed one wrist. Tom pulled sharply and Mike stumbled. Spencer blinked and saw Mike's free hand twist hard in Tom's hair, Tom's fingers digging painfully into the skin of Mike's waist. The kiss looked like fighting; the bitterness that had been in their voices working out through the scratch of their fingernails on soft skin, teeth drawing blood in lips. Awkward and ruthless, they clutched each other like they were still throwing punches and insults. Tom pushed Mike against the wall, his shoulders thudding into hard concrete. Tom moaned as Mike broke the kiss to bite hard into Tom's neck.

"Why are you so fucking difficult?" Tom hissed. He jerked his hand free from Mike's grasp and shoved it between them, palming roughly over Mike's cock. Spencer could see the way Mike's hips thrust forward into the touch. Mike jerked Tom's head back with the hand still in his hair, biting again further down. Tom swore and shifted, tilting Mike's face back up and kissing him harshly. Mike's free hand raked down Tom's back, sliding under the waistband of his jeans. Tom groaned and swore again, jerking back into Mike's touch.

"Why are you only fucking easy like this?" Mike asked. He twisted his hand and Tom gasped.

"Fuck you," he said.

"You want me to fuck _you_," Mike said. His smirk slid off his face as Tom's hand moved. Tom bit his shoulder, fingers moving on Mike's belt as Mike groaned and tugged on Tom's hair. Spencer stared, watching them both. Their hands were confident on each other's skin, knowing where to hurt, where to drag out the pleasure and pain from each other. This wasn't the first time they had done this. The next kiss was rough still, harsh, neither ceding anything to each other, but there was familiarity written into each line of their lips, the tilt of their heads. Spencer knew then that nothing on this tour had ever been about him.

Mike wrestled Tom's t-shirt up, the kiss breaking for an instant as he pulled it impatiently over Tom's head. Tom's hand slid back into Mike's pants, popping the button fly. One of Mike's hands covered faint marks left by Spencer on Tom's shoulders, the other down the back of his jeans again, and Spencer felt sick. He had seen enough to know that he'd never been anything but a gamepiece between these two and the sick churn in his stomach grew, a pit of uncertainty opening under his feet and leaving him nauseous. He stepped back a little further, turning his head away.

"Spencer!" came a voice. Jon was just a few feet away. He stepped quickly forward, turning the corner and joining Spencer. "I've been looking for you, Ryan wants - what's going on here?"

The change in his voice between the two halves of the sentence was obvious, the last coming out like an accusation. His fingers gripped Spencer's elbow hard, his gaze on the pair in the little hallway. Spencer looked at them too, Tom shirtless with Mike's fresh scratches red on his back. Mike's jeans were open, shoved down just a little with his boxers hanging low on his hips. He had a smear of blood on his lower lip. Spencer looked away, his fingers coming up to press on the fading bruises low on his throat. Jon followed his gaze, eyes focusing on the mark and the look on Spencer's face.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/la_dissonance/pic/000cqqay)

"Which one?" he asked. Spencer looked at him, not quite sure what the question was about. "Which one?" asked Jon again, voice fierce. "Which one fucking did that to you, did this?" Spencer shook his head, risking a glance at Mike and Tom. They gazed back at him and Spencer couldn't tell a thing from their faces. They were like a jury, passing judgement on him as not worth wanting for his own sake.

"I'm going to be sick," Spencer said. He turned and walked back round the corner, back down the corridor towards the faint sound of music. Jon caught him just after the first turn, hand heavy on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer stopped, Jon nearly walking into his back. His arm slid forward, looping round Spencer in an awkward hug. The invitation was there to melt into him, to let Jon take part of the burden. Spencer stood tall, though, arms crossed defensively across his chest.

"I'm sorry," said Jon.

"What did Ryan want?" asked Spencer. He could practically feel Jon's need to fix Spencer vibrating through his skin, but he couldn't relax into that comfort. His footing was insecure and all he wanted was to get it back. Jon let go of him reluctantly, letting him step away and breath deep.

"He just wanted to know where you'd gone," said Jon. "He's still in the dressing room." Spencer nodded decisively. He shoved aside everything else. Ryan needed him, and Spencer needed to remember that. It was better to not think about himself.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Spencer knew he had a reputation for being bitchy. He'd cultivated it for a long time, slowly building up layers of protection in sarcasm and scorn. He usually directed it to people who wanted to hurt Ryan or Brendon, tapping into the well of protectiveness he'd been building up since they met. He gathered every bit together of it together for himself before he followed Ryan and Brendon out of the dressing room. Spencer had seen Ryan's gaze lingering on him thoughtfully as they had dressed, but he hadn't said anything, just rubbed his thumb over Spencer wrist when Brent had left the room, eyebrow arched to mutely ask what the matter was. Spencer had shaken his head.

Outside the door, Jon straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for them even though he should have been busy with Mike and Tom's guitars. Brendon glanced from Jon to Ryan to Spencer and his brow wrinkled in thought. He didn't say anything, though, just touched his hand to Spencer's arm and kept moving. Spencer fell in behind him, ready to go on stage and work out some of his hurt through the beat. Ryan fitted into his side, close enough to brush their arms together, and Jon strolled along on his other side. Spencer nearly smiled at the sweetness of his little guard, even though they didn't know what had happened. They didn't know how he'd been found lacking.

Jon's hand on his elbow startled Spencer out of his thoughts. He glanced up, taking in the dark look on Jon's face and followed his gaze. Mike and Tom were leaning against the wall with Bill. Mike's hand was low and possessive on Tom's back, heedless of the tightness in Tom's shoulders, the awkward way he was holding himself. Spencer bit his lip and looked away. The squeeze of Jon's fingers, hard enough to hurt, gave him something to focus on besides his worthlessness. Ryan's hand rested between his shoulder blades, flat and anchoring him in their little group. Brendon's back was very straight and Spencer concentrated on that until he was past the trio in the hallway.

At the edge of the stage, Brent was waiting. He arched his eyebrows at the four of them and shook his head, but he didn't say anything. Spencer was relieved. He knew Ryan would have the story out of him before the night was over, and then Brendon would know within moments, but he didn't want Brent to know. Jon's hand slid from Spencer's elbow to his wrist, squeezing lightly before letting go. His smile was encouraging, even though his eyes were grave. Spencer smiled at him, as much of a real smile as he could manage. Jon's eyes warmed immediately and he stepped forward and hugged Spencer hard, pulling back before Spencer had a chance to reciprocate. Then Brendon was tugging him forward and he stepped out into the lights, forgetting everything under the weight of the sticks in his hands.

Spencer was just beginning to think he had escaped questioning when Ryan and Brendon cornered him against the table in the tiny dressing room. The night was winding down, everything packed away and everyone relaxing for a while before the buses left. Ryan had his hands on his hips, chin lifted high. Brendon was right next to him, his fidgeting cut down to a point that Spencer knew he was serious about what was happening. For such tiny little emo kids, they had surprisingly fierce faces, and Spencer just wanted to huddle into their arms and cry. He wasn't going to cry.

"Don't make me ask Jon what happened," said Ryan. Brendon just touched Spencer's face, rubbing his thumb over Spencer's cheek and Spencer felt his resolve wobble. Ryan's arms around him were strong and Brendon pressed against him from the side. The door opened and closed behind them and another set of arms wrapped round Spencer.

"It's something Spencer needs to tell. I only know the end," said Jon. Spencer screwed his eyes closed and buried his face in Ryan's neck.

"I thought at first that it was some kind of game, for both of them," said Spencer. "But I believed them. They made me believe them. I believed that they wanted me for myself. But all they wanted was the game, and each other." He hated having to admit this, to tell the story of how he'd been duped. He'd not been cautious enough, and how woud Ryan ever trust him to look after him now? Or Brendon?

"Did they hurt you?" asked Brendon. His hand was shaking against Spencer's neck, but his voice was steady enough.

"Not like that, not like how you mean," said Spencer. "Just. Just kissing. Some touching. Just telling me that I was beautiful." He shook his head. "I was stupid." Ryan made a little noise at that, his fingers tightening on Spencer. "It was nothing," said Spencer. "Nothing at all. Just a game I got caught in."

"Not nothing," said Ryan and Brendon hummed his agreement into Spencer's neck. Jon made a sound somewhere between a snarl and a sob, his fingers tightening on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer blinked a couple of times, tears threatening to leak from the corners of his eyes. Even with these three plastered up against him he still felt raw, his stomach hollow and aching. He felt like maybe Mike and Tom had noticed that he just wasn't important, that's why they had decided to use him. He was young and still fat, nothing worth worrying over, only barely worth playing with.

The door opened again and Spencer glanced up to see Brent standing there. His mouth was set in a line that Spencer didn't recognise on his face, like he had seen something that he wanted to forget. He didn't ask what was wrong, and none of the others even glanced at him. Grabbing his bag, he disappeared out the door, leaving it open. Brendon clung harder and Ryan tilted Spencer's face towards him with one hand.

"Don't think it," he said. "You're not any of those things." Spencer shook his head, embarrassed. Ryan just leaned in and kissed him, a simple press of lips, pulling back with a wry smile. "You know I love you," he said.

"You're quoting my words back to me, asshole?" said Spencer, a tiny burst of laughter escaping him. Brendon giggled too and pressed into his side further, planting his own tiny kiss on Spencer's jaw.

"Anyone who can't see your inner beauty is a complete bitch, and also blind as a bat and will probably age dreadfully," he said helpfully.

"I did _not_ say that," spluttered Spencer.

"You did too," said Brendon, "when that girl turned me down for the Junior Dance. You remember, Ryan?"

"I do," said Ryan. His face was very solemn, but his eyes were twinkling. "Even Jon probably has a Spencer-pep-talk-moment."

"No," said Jon, "no, Spencer has never given me a pep talk." He stroked his hand along Spencer's shoulder, bringing it to rest below Brendon's on Spencer's back. "But if he had, about, say, me missing my cat, I can only imagine how wonderful it would have been. I would have been pepped."

"Whatever," Spencer said. "Assholes."

"Assholes who _looove_ you," said Brendon. Ryan smiled at that, and Jon chuckled.

"Is intervention time over?" asked Spencer. He didn't want to admit it, but he did feel better just from talking with them and having the three of them close. It maybe should have felt odd to have Jon there and not Brent, but it didn't. Jon felt right, fitting into the tangle of arms and bodies as if he was supposed to be there.

"Not until you say it," said Ryan. "You have to tell us that you know how much we love and admire you."

"And how you want to have my babies?" asked Spencer. "Let go of me."

"Only Jon can have your babies," said Brendon, very seriously. "Ryan and I are too skinny." Spencer glanced at Jon to see him blushing faintly, just a streak of pink over his cheekbones. He wasn't quite sure why Jon was blushing, but it was time to draw this to an end.

"Okay," he said. "I know that you all love me and admire me."

"That was pathetic," said Ryan. "But nevermind. We have you captive, we can work on you." He let go of Spencer then, taking a step back. Brendon untangled himself more reluctantly; he was always one to cling on for snuggles. Jon let go of him slowly, too. His face was thoughtful, like he wanted to say something more. He opened his mouth, but his phone buzzed at that moment and he pulled it out of his pocket as he stepped back. His lips compressed as he glanced at the screen.

"I've missed the bus," he announced. "Or I will, unless I run. Can I come with you tonight?" Brendon beamed, bouncing into Jon's space to give him a hug. Spencer watched the smile bloom on Ryan's face and schooled his own face into a smile.

"Of course," said Ryan. "You have to snuggle in with Spencer, though. Brendon kicks and you said I was bony." Spencer blushed to the roots of his hair at the thought of Jon curled into his side, warm and relaxed like he'd been the night they all slept together. He couldn't help but wonder what had made Jon say Ryan was bony, but Ryan didn't look upset or worried. He just looked amused. Jon was blushing though, thumbs moving over the keypad of the phone. He glanced up and caught Spencer's eye briefly before looking away again. Spencer was too tired to think about why Jon looked so embarrassed but Ryan looked so unfazed. He yawned and tried not to rub his eyes like a little kid. Brendon snuggled back into his side immediately and Spencer put his arm around him, waiting for Ryan to gather up all his stuff and get ready to leave.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Spencer woke up in the night with his heart pounding as the road hissed under the wheels. Jon snuffled into Spencer's neck, arm anchored tight around him and Spencer slowly remembered where he was, and why Jon was there. He relaxed back into his embrace. Two days shouldn't make something a habit, but Jon was comfortable for Spencer to snuggle against. Thin grey light filtered in, heralding the morning. They'd be at the venue soon, winding up for another day of too much caffeine, too little sleep. Spencer just wanted to sleep somewhere warm, where he could spread out and relax for days, letting himself fit into the space available. This morning, though, there was nothing he could do about that itch. He fit himself to Jon instead, wondering just how he'd ended up like this. Thoughts started to tumble through his head, unwelcome and unpleasant. Even lying down, he could feel the hollow sensation in his belly. Jon's arm tightened over him.

"Stop thinking," he mumbled. "Waking me up."

"Sorry," whispered Spencer. He didn't think he could stop himself though. Jon's stubble scraped on Spencer's neck and his hand flattened over his chest. Spencer's heart beat faster and he concentrated on breathing slowly.

"Hey, do I have to wake up Ryan or Brendon? So one of them can give you a smooch and quote you back to yourself?"

"No," said Spencer, shortly. He was having trouble concentrating with Jon pressed so close.

"Hey," said Jon. He propped himself up a little so he could see Spencer's face. He leaned closer and Spencer shifted, tipping his head around so he was looking up. He could just see the serious expression on his face in the cold grey light before Jon was too close, breath ghosting over Spencer's lips. The kiss was soft, maybe a little hesitant, like Jon was sure he was going to get pushed away any moment. Spencer didn't push him though, but he didn't kiss back either. This was comfort, right here, and Spencer stayed still underneath it. Jon pulled back just as slowly, face a complicated mixture of emotion that Spencer couldn't read very well. His heart hurt worse for a second, thinking of Ryan. Jon looked down at him and Spencer recognised a question somewhere in his expression. He didn't know what the answer was, or even the question, really.

Moving his hand up, Spencer squeezed his fingers around Jon's softly and managed a smile. Jon smiled back at him, a shade of sadness in it. "Come on," said Spencer. "We should try to get more sleep." Jon moved back down, face tucked into the back of Spencer's neck again. Spencer didn't think that either of them would fall back to sleep, but he took long breaths in and let them out slowly, trying to relax against Jon and lose himself in the noise of the road. Somewhere between one vision of Tom and Mike and the next, he slipped back into sleep.

When he woke again there was no movement and the light was brighter. A bony knee dug into his back that he had no trouble identifying as Ryan's. He rolled a little, moving so that the sharp point wasn't right in his shoulder blade.

"Good morning," said Ryan. "What's a word that rhymes with soporific?" Spencer made a grumpy, sleepy noise and Ryan poked him with his pencil. "Don't be a bitch. Brendon will be back with coffee any minute." Spencer groaned and stretched a little, closing his eyes and trying to relax as Ryan loudly counted syllables right next to him, discarding his effort with a noise like an angry cat. Spencer rolled over completely and flung his arm over Ryan's legs. Ryan nudged him with his toes.

"I can see Brendon coming," he said.

"That coffee had better be as big as my head," Spencer grumbled. Ryan just hummed but his hand was gentle in Spencer's hair. Brendon was less gentle when he sat on Spencer's legs, already laughing as Spencer kicked at him.

"You slept really soundly, dude," said Brendon. "We had to shake Jon awake when we got here, you were both out."

"Gimme the coffee," bitched Spencer, propping himself up on his elbow and ignoring Brendon's comment. He ignored the memory of how he'd felt wrapped up in Jon's arms, how surprisingly easy it had been to go back to sleep. He glanced at Ryan, who was looking back at him with an amused expression. He dropped his gaze, fiddling with the lid of his cup. The attraction he felt for Jon just added to his feelings of inadequacy. He sucked as a best friend, totally stealing cuddle times and kisses with Jon. He felt restless and itchy, like he could fix all of this if he just had something to do. Instead he finished his coffee and shifted so he could shove Brendon off his legs. He moved Ryan more gently out of the way and stood to stretch.

"Feeling more human now?" asked Ryan. He closed his notebook and stood too. "I hear there are rather nice bathrooms at this venue. We should go find our dressing room and settle in before they get disgusting." Spencer grunted even as Brendon immediately began rummaging for his bag. Spencer wasn't sure if it was sweet that they obviously intended to stay with him all day or if he was going to have to kill one of them. Brendon beamed at him and shoved a t-shirt into his hands. Spencer looked down at it and then up at Brendon, who was now cramming things into his bag. Spencer dropped the t-shirt onto a pile of his clothes and fished out his own bag. The jury was still out.

Ryan tugged on Spencer's arm and they walked out of the bus together and into the light. Blinking at the brightness, Spencer pulled on his sunglasses, glad to be able to hide behind the dark lenses. Brendon led the way, sliding round the back of a bus and past an empty dumpster to the door of the venue. Spencer stopped short, Ryan's fingers sliding from his elbow down to his wrist and Brendon stepping half in front of him. Tom hastily pushed Mike back from him and wiped over his mouth with the back of his hand. Mike rested his hand on the nape of Tom's neck and Tom looked away. One of his eyes was swollen and puffy; he looked awkward and nervous. Mike shuffled his feet a little, like he wasn't really as comfortable as he made out. Spencer was right back in all his hurt and uncertainty in an instant. The coffee was starting to churn uncomfortably in his otherwise empty stomach.

Tom opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but Ryan's fingers tightened on his wrist and Brendon started moving again. Spencer didn't look up as they went past, he couldn't tell which of his bandmates hissed slightly, or whether it was Mike or Tom that made the odd choking sound. He just followed Brendon's shoulders into the venue and down a series of hallways to a tiny room with a delapidated couch. Brendon dropped his bag and turned to fling himself into Spencer's arms. Staggering backwards, Spencer struggled to keep his balance.

"What the fuck, Brendon?" he spluttered. Brendon just clung to him for a moment longer, finally letting go of him too quickly and making Spencer almost lose his balance again.

"It's hard to be all emo under the amazing force of my cuddles," said Brendon. Ryan stifled a chuckle behind Spencer's back. "Nice black eye Jon gave Tom," he continued conversationally. "It hasn't darkened up yet, but it's going to be beautiful tonight. I wonder what they'll say about it?"

"Jon gave Tom that black eye?" said Spencer. He felt really fucking confused; trying to follow Brendon's conversations usually required him to be much more awake than one cup of coffee.

"Yep," said Brendon. "Or, well, I surmise. Yes, fuckface," he continued, turning towards Ryan, "I do know what that word means and not because you told me." Spencer blinked at him and then looked at Ryan. He shrugged and smiled a little.

"He said he was going to," Ryan confirmed. He didn't sound like he was joking. Spencer felt a little slow. He wasn't following this at all.

"But why would Jon hit Tom?" he asked. Brendon's sudden silence and complete stillness made Spencer feel like he'd just questioned some fundamental constant of their shared universe.

"Is he _usually_ this stupid?" Brendon asked, turning to Ryan. "I'm thinking someone swapped out our Spencer and left us with this one." Spencer felt his ears heating, eyes suddenly prickling. He hadn't cried yet and didn't want to now, but he felt scraped raw and hollow, not enough of his attitude left to hold himself together. He was scared that Ryan and Brendon might notice that he couldn't hold onto them, either. Looking away, Spencer tried to wipe his eyes without either of the others noticing. Ryan's arms came round him from one side and Brendon's from the other. "Hey, Spencer, hey," said Brendon, voice soft and gentle. "I didn't mean it, you know I didn't." Spencer couldn't stop himself then. His defences were all worn down. He made a small choked noise and felt Ryan's arms tighten. He was sure that Ryan was glaring at Brendon over his head, but it was all he could do to stop himself from sobbing miserably. He couldn't bring himself to raise his head.

"Spencer," said Ryan, "you must have known." Spencer shook his head miserably, tears streaking down his face. He didn't know anything. "Fuck," said Ryan, an emphatic whisper. "You fucking caused this mess, Brendon, you fucking fix it."

"I was going to go find catering and get some food," said Brendon. "Spencer will feel better if he eats something."

"Don't fucking start," Ryan hissed. "I'm not going to be the one to tell Spencer that Jon's in love with him." Spencer froze, then, not even breathing for several long heartbeats. Brendon laughed, then, his chest shaking against Spencer's back.

"I think you just did, dude," said Brendon. He snuggled closer into Spencer. "It's true, he is," he clarified. Spencer didn't say anything. He felt snotty and tearstained, completed bewildered and so _angry_. He pushed them both away, lifting the hem of his t-shirt to wipe at his face.

"Don't make fun of me," he hissed. "I know I'm not... not much of a catch, you don't have to fucking _lie_, lie about Jon." Spencer couldn't look at either of them. Arms crossed defensively over his chest, he glared at the floor instead. He wanted to scream, wanted to punch someone himself.

"I'm not lying," said Ryan. His voice was soft. "We're not lying."

"Why would he? Really? I'm _nothing,_ okay? Nothing."

"Don't fucking say that," shouted Ryan, the volume and vehemence of his voice startling Spencer. He looked up, seeing Ryan flushed red and upset, Brendon hunched in on himself next to him. "Don't, Spencer," he repeated. "You're fucking worth it, you're fucking _everything_ to me, you asshole." Spencer just stared at them both for a second before launching himself across the space to wrap around Ryan and Brendon, holding them both tight. Brendon gave one sob before he burrowed into them both equally. Ryan fisted his hand in Spencer's hair, shaking him a little and pressing their faces together. Spencer just held onto them both. He never wanted to hurt them.

The door opened behind them and the three of them broke apart. Spencer turned away from the door, wiping the back of his hand over his face. He wasn't sure that he could let Ryan and Brendon see him like this, much less anyone else.

"Jon," said Brendon, "don't go. Stay."

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/la_dissonance/pic/000cgxzy)

"I just brought food so you didn't have to go out if you didn't want to," Jon said. He sounded uncomfortable and Spencer felt his face flame. Ryan and Brendon must be mistaken; there was no way that someone as awesome as Jon would be interested in Spencer, much less _in love_.

"Thanks," said Ryan. Spencer glanced sideways. Ryan had that smile on his face again, the soft, affectionate one that he wore sometimes for Spencer and Brendon. Spencer got it then, understanding why Jon had been adopted so quickly. They'd been telling the truth, as impossible as it seemed. Spencer took a deep breath and turned his head to see Jon setting down a couple of bags on the table. His heart started to beat faster as he really looked at him, running his gaze up over his feet, his jeans and ragged hoodie, up to his unshaven face. He was confident and direct, friendly, and hot. Spencer's breath caught a little as he realised just how much attraction he'd been repressing. He pushed his hood back and Spencer could see scrapes on his knuckles, fresh and raw looking.

"Did you really punch Tom?" he blurted. Jon looked at him then, startled, and Spencer was conscious of his red eyes and the fact that he still hadn't blown his nose. Jon blushed but he met Spencer's gaze squarely.

"He's my best friend," he said, "but he shouldn't have treated you like that." He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "You're pretty fucking amazing, and he was an idiot not to see that." Spencer couldn't help but smile, knowing that he probably looked like a dork but unable to care. The stretch felt unfamiliar on his face, like he hadn't smiled for years. Jon smiled back, but there was still an edge of uncertainty to it. Spencer couldn't bear to see it there, so he took a step closer and reached out, taking Jon's hand to look more closely at the battered skin.

"Did you do it for me?" Spencer asked, nearly wincing as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Yeah," said Jon. He looked at Spencer steadily, such an aura of hopefulness in his face that Spencer nearly had to close his eyes against it. He'd never had someone look at him like that, like he might be something too special to be obtainable. He wished, stupidly, that he'd had a hankerchief and blown his nose and mopped his face. He couldn't be very good to look at right now. "You're just so beautiful," whispered Jon, as if he'd read Spencer's mind and wanted to stamp all his hurtful, damaging thoughts to pieces. Spencer raised Jon's hand to his mouth, softly kissing the scraped skin. Jon made a noise, then, something soft and questioning.

Spencer closed the last few inches of space between them, letting go of Jon's hand to cup his face and brush their mouths together. He pulled back just a fraction, just enough to see Jon's eyes darken and his lips part. Spencer licked his own lips quickly, seeing Jon's gaze drop to them as he copied the motion. Spencer pushed forward again, kissing more firmly. Jon opened for him, pushing back and claiming Spencer's mouth with his tongue. His hands came up to rest on Spencer's shoulders and Spencer could feel the tension in them, in the rest of his body. He turned the kiss dirty then, tilting Jon's face just right and sliding his tongue into Jon's mouth, claiming every bit of space for himself. He dimly heard Ryan telling Brendon that they should leave, but he didn't care. He was caught up in the feeling of Jon under his hands and the taste of him on his tongue. Jon pulled back just a little and buried his face in Spencer's neck, panting softly.

"Spencer," said Jon, "fuck, tell me this isn't pity or some fucking rebound thing." His voice was shaking slightly, low and hoarse. Spencer moved one hand to thread through Jon's hair at the back, the other cupping round his exposed neck. Spencer wanted to kiss him again, wanted to crawl right inside him and get closer than was physically possible. He wanted that look, the one that said that Spencer was something special and maybe out of Jon's reach. He loved that Jon made him feel like he was important without making him feel like he was some kind of trophy. He closed down that train of thought, concentrating instead on the scrape of his thumb over the stubble on Jon's jaw.

"Not pity," he said. "And I never. Um. Started anything. With _them_, so. Not rebound." Spencer felt the smile start to bloom on Jon's lips, pressed into his neck. Spencer slid his hands away from Jon, though, suddenly nervous. Jon had never done anything to make Spencer mistrust him, but he felt like he couldn't trust his instincts right now. Stepping back from Jon, Spencer crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the way Jon followed him with his body for a second. "Just. You like me?" he asked, voice wavering a little with uncertainty. Spencer hated that, hated the way he was giving himself away so much.

"I'm crazy about you," said Jon. "I stalked your fucking band so that I could get a chance to meet you." Spencer smiled a little then, then wider at Brendon's indignant 'hey!' outside the door, and the indistinct sound of Ryan shushing him. He didn't uncross his arms, though, didn't relax his defences. "Fuck, Spencer, give me a chance, here." Jon raked his hand through his hair and Spencer just wanted to pull him close and kiss him again, but he kept closed in on himself. "Please," said Jon. "Let me date you, take it slow."

"Date?" asked Spencer, looking up at Jon, finally. Jon looked a little ragged, all pleading eyes and an unhappy curve to his mouth.

"Jesus, Spencer, you're not this stupid. Fucking date him!" came Brendon's voice through the door, hastily cut off and followed by a series of thumps and an ominous silence. Spencer laughed suddenly, near to hysterics, cutting himself off with a few hiccoughs and a smile that he wasn't sure wasn't really a grimace.

"Dating," he said, "sounds good. Going slowly sounds good." Jon's smile was all relief, the tension melting from his shoulders. Spencer lowered his arms from their self-protective position and Jon was inside them in an instant, hugging Spencer close and warm. Spencer brought his own arms up to circle Jon loosely, scared still of holding on too tight. The door creaked as it opened and Brendon made a disappointed noise the next instant as he saw that they weren't kissing. Spencer started to laugh, properly laugh like he was really amused and not just pretending, as Ryan shouted at Brendon and Jon just snuggled close and smiled at them all.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Spencer shivered a little as he waited for Jon by the back door of the venue. They had a tiny window of time, between initial set up of the equipment and sound check, just enough time for Spencer to be nervous about. This wasn't just hanging out; it had an air of deliberation that made Spencer nervous. He wished he smoked, just for an instant, but squashed the idea as he remembered the taste of cigarettes from a kiss. He didn't want to think about Mike or Tom right now.

The door opened and Spencer straightened up, tugging on the hem of his hoodie and hoping he looked okay. He'd dug through his clothes frantically, looking for something clean and presentable. Brendon had finally sidled up with Spencer's favourite shirt in his hands, still warm from being washed and dried in the venue bathrooms. He'd felt good when Spencer hugged him, tiny and warm in his arms. Spencer looked at Jon, gaze travelling up from his bare toes in his flip flops, over his legs, skipping nervously over his thighs and groin but getting caught a little at his shoulders and neck before moving up to his face. Jon was smiling and Spencer returned it.

"Hi," said Jon. "Um, sorry I'm late." He dropped his gaze for a second. "My shirt took longer to dry than I expected." Spencer was grinning by the time Jon raised his eyes again. "Shut up," said Jon, "you're totally awesome, okay, I'm allowed to be nervous." Spencer took a step forward and grabbed his hand.

"Brendon washed mine for me," he confessed. "I was too nervous to even think of it." Jon looked at their joined hands and smiled then, pulling Spencer even closer.

"One of the local dudes gave me directions to a nice cafe," Jon said. Spencer fell into step beside him, feeling vaguely self-conscious about their clasped hands, but he didn't tug away.

"Okay," he said.

"I used to work at a Starbucks," said Jon. Spencer glanced at him to see him paying more attention to Spencer's profile than to where they were walking.

"Oh?" asked Spencer. "Did you like that?" It felt odd, to be making small talk with Jon. He felt like he'd known Jon forever, like he should just know these things and not having to find them out. He felt like it should be like Ryan and Brendon, whom he knew so well and with whom he had few secrets. At the same time, he was almost giddy with the possibilities, knowing that Jon hadn't seen him through awkward, fumbling dates and humiliation. He hoped that this wouldn't turn out to be an awkward, fumbling, humiliating date.

"I liked the coffee," said Jon. "I liked making the coffee and maybe making someone happy with it."

"You used to draw things on the cups, didn't you?" asked Spencer.

"I would have drawn things on your cup," Jon replied. Spencer felt a low curl of anticipation in his belly, nerves assuaged by the sweetness of Jon's smiles.

"What would you have drawn?" he asked, slanting a smile at Jon and looking at him through his eyelashes.

"My phone number," said Jon. Spencer laughed and Jon continued, "I don't know, pictures of the places I would take you on awesome dates?"

"That sounds good," said Spencer. "Will you draw something on my cup at this cafe, even though you're not making the coffee?"

"Oh, definitely," replied Jon. "Try to stop me. Will you draw something for me?"

"I'm not much of an artist," said Spencer. Jon looked absudly disappointed and Spencer laughed again. "Okay, dude, but you have to promise not to laugh at my crappy stick figures."

"There will be no laughing, Spencer Smith," Jon said. He looked earnest, hand pressed over his heart, and Spencer was charmed by the image, and by the slight lisp as Jon said his name. "Not at your drawings, anyway."

Spencer looked sideways at Jon as they walked. Jon was still paying more attention to him than where they were going, seemingly unable to look away from him. Spencer tugged him gently out of the way of a hole in the path, pulling him even closer so their shoulders brushed and Spencer's knuckles bumped against Jon's thigh as they walked. Jon smiled at him again and Spencer wondered if his own face was going to get stuck in the same dorky smile. He didn't care.

"The cafe should be just at the end of this street," Jon said, pointing with his free hand. The road around them was quiet, no other pedestrians and only a few cars. Just ahead was a little alleyway, some kind of service lane. It looked relatively clean and deserted. Spencer hesitated. He didn't really want to go to the cafe and drink coffee and make small talk. He wanted to kiss Jon, to see if he kissed as sweetly as he had the last time. He glanced at Jon and back at the alleyway, then stopped, pulling Jon to a halt too. Leaning close, he pressed a kiss against Jon's lips, dry and a little off centre. He drew back a little, licking his lips and leaning in again. Jon met him halfway, this time, fingers tightening around Spencer's hand.

"I don't really want coffee," said Spencer. Jon's eyes were darker already when he looked at Spencer. Spencer just smiled and pulled him into the little alleyway, leading him down a bit till they were partly blocked from sight. Spencer turned back to Jon, biting his lip nervously, unsure if this was going to be okay, or if Jon had really wanted to just go and get coffee. "Is this okay?" Spencer asked. "Sorry, I don't want to assume anything." Jon dropped Spencer's hand to slide one hand up under Spencer's t-shirt, the fingers of the other curling round Spencer's bicep.

"Don't apologise," he said. His voice was low, husky, and Spencer watched him lick his lips. One of Spencer's hands cupped the back of Jon's head, the other resting low on his waist, splayed just above the line of his jeans. He took a step forward, bringing them into full contact. Jon's gaze dropped to Spencer's lips and Spencer tilted his head, leaning closer. The first brush was tentative for just a second before Jon gasped and Spencer pushed harder. Jon's mouth was perfect, soft under Spencer's and his fingers dug into Spencer's arm with just the right pressure. Spencer deepened the kiss, pressing harder and exploring Jon's mouth. Jon moaned softly into Spencer's mouth.

"Fuck," said Spencer. They had done nothing more than kiss but Spencer felt like his skin was too small, too sensitive, to contain all the pleasure. Jon's hands were hot where they touched him, and the stubble on his chin made Spencer's lips feel swollen and tender. Jon bit his jaw, lightly, then again under his ear as Spencer shivered. Spencer shifted, getting both hands down to squeeze Jon's ass through his jeans, urging him to grind into the pressure of Spencer's hips.

"Oh shit," whispered Jon. "Spencer, fuck, you're-" He broke off to groan as Spencer sucked on his earlobe. Jon felt good in his arms, pressed against him. He wasn't pushing Spencer, wasn't trying to direct the action. Spencer could stay there all day, kissing him and listening to the noises he made, feeling the way he arched into Spencer's body and gave himself up to the kiss. Jon was sweet and solid, real under Spencer's fingers. He was so different to Mike or Tom, with their grabby hands and unfathomable smirks. Jon was something special, and Spencer pulled back just a little, breathing heavily and trying to collect himself.

"Jon," he said, kissing his neck and turning his head, letting his arms encircle Jon in a hug. "Going on a date was an awesome idea."

"It was," said Jon, rubbing his hand up and down Spencer's back.

"We should go on it," said Spencer. He pulled back, half a step, and took in his dark eyes and reddened lips. He wanted to shove Jon back against the wall and kiss him again, kiss him until all he could think of was Jon and the heat of their bodies together.

"Yeah," said Jon. Spencer stepped back the last little bit, turning away a little and adjusting himself in his pants as discreetly as possible. Jon took his hand again, squeezing gently as they headed back to the road.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Spencer was drenched with sweat after each performance, his shirt sticking to his back, his stage trousers crumpled. He'd found that playing was exhausting and exhilarating in nearly equal measure, leaving him tired and aching and burning with energy. Tonight, Brendon stuck close to his side as they came off stage and Ryan went to get someone - Jon, probably - to look at his guitar. Brent disappeared; he always did now. Spencer frowned, wondering when that had become commonplace. Then he looked up to see Tom and Mike, standing off to the side with the rest of their band. Tom was leaning against a wall, hand tucked into Mike's back pocket. He looked less uncomfortable than he had last time Spencer had seen him, and Mike looked relaxed and happy to be claimed. Looking away, Spencer met Brendon's concerned gaze and gave a tiny smile. He was already feeling better, just a few short days later, more self-assured and able to do the things he needed to do.

Brendon followed him down the corridor to their poky little dressing room, humming something under his breath and nearly vibrating with thinly concealed energy. He got like this after shows, sometimes, too wound up to come down quietly. Spencer was used to it by now, though he'd never imagined he might have the patience to put up with this level of clinging mania. Spencer ushered him in the door to the dressing room and poked his head into the empty bathroom.

"We can shower together," said Spencer. Brendon giggled and pressed his hand over his heart.

"This is all so sudden," he said. Spencer shoved him gently.

"There are two stalls, ass."

"If Jon was here, all three of us could shower at once, I'll bet," said Brendon, with a ridiculously lascivious tongue waggle. Spencer laughed and shook his head, feeling his cheeks heat. He wasn't sure that he was ready to be teased like that.

"Are you into voyeurism?" he asked, hoping to embarrass Brendon in turn. He wasn't expecting the brilliant blush that burned over Brendon's cheeks or the way he turned away and looked so awkard.

"Not generally," mumbled Brendon. Spencer was surprised by his reaction, and tried to make himself focus on closing his mouth.

"What?" he asked, faintly. "I mean, Jon's fucking hot, I know, but really?" He hadn't thought that Brendon could get more red, but his ears burned hotter. He was a lot more embarrassed than Spencer had expected, more nervous looking than Spencer had seen him for a long time. The last time Spencer had seen him this bad, with twitchy, shaky fingers and his mouth downturned into an unhappy line, Brendon had been in love with that girl, the one in Junior year at his school. Spencer's mouth dropped open again as he realised. _In love._ "You're in love with Jon," Spencer breathed. Brendon turned away, moving like he was going to escape, get away from Spencer. "No, no, don't," he said. "You are, aren't you?"

Brendon's mouth twisted bitterly and he wrapped his arms around himself, looking at the floor and the wall, avoiding Spencer's question. Spencer thought of all the times he'd seen Brendon and Jon together, the comfortable way Brendon had touched him, the way Jon had touched _back_. Spencer's heart started beating faster as he thought through all the possibilities, all the times he'd seen Jon and Brendon together, all the times he'd seen Jon and Ryan.

"He's in love with you too," Spencer blurted, watching Brendon's shoulders tighten even further.

"He's not," answered Brendon.

"He is," insisted Spencer, tugging on Brendon's arm to turn him. "He is, I've seen him look at you, and at Ryan. Why give him to me? You could have had him." Brendon's laugh was low and mirthless; he wouldn't meet Spencer's gaze. Spencer shook him lightly.

"Because it's you," Brendon said, voice tight and aching. "Because we're so fucking in love with _you_, and so is _he_, and we _could_."

"Fuck," said Spencer. "Do you know-" He broke off as the door opened and Ryan strode in, a faint smile playing round his mouth. It faded quickly when he looked at them, from Spencer's hand curled round Brendon's bicep to Brendon's averted face.

"What's going on?" he said, voice sharper than Spencer had heard it for a while. He wasn't angry, not yet, but Spencer was too upset, too sideswiped by Brendon's revelation to care much.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer asked instead, keeping his eyes on Brendon. "Fuck, if I'd known, if you'd said-" He broke off as Brendon made a noise, unhappy and near breaking.

"If," Brendon said bitterly. "Like I haven't heard you tell Ryan, for_ years_, that you don't fuck your friends just because they love you. Because they want you."

"That's not it," said Spencer. "Fuck, Brendon-" Ryan's voice cut in again, sharper again, edged with something a little bitter.

"What's going _on_?" he asked. Spencer shook his head. Brendon couldn't mean it, or, if he did, he couldn't possibly imagine that Spencer would have turned either one of them down, not if their interest was genuine and not just clinging in uncertainty. He thought guiltily of all the times he'd looked at them both, at the clean lines of Ryan's body and Brendon's infectious energy. There were times when he had _wanted_, so much that his fingers ached as he clenched his fists to keep from touching. They had never meant it for the right reasons, either of them.

"Spencer wanted to know why we didn't keep Jon for one of us," said Brendon. His voice was low and rough. Spencer looked at Ryan, taking in the way his lips thinned and his shoulders stiffened. "He doesn't understand that we want to make him happy."

"I saw the way you looked at him," said Spencer helplessly. He dropped Brendon's arm. "I saw the way he looked at you, too. Both of you." He swallowed hard. There was no way Jon would want him when he could have either of Ryan or Brendon for the choosing.

"Don't do that," said Ryan, still sharp. "I can fucking _see_ you doing it, Spencer, telling yourself that you're not fucking good enough and it's _not true_, has never been true. I don't cling to you because you're fucking _convenient_ okay, not for _convenience_."

"But Jon," said Spencer. He took a step backwards, but Ryan was on a roll.

"Look at Brendon," said Ryan. Spencer did, seeing the way he was hunched in on himself, like he always was whenever Ryan and Spencer fought. "He doesn't just need you for drumming and protection, Spencer, fuck. How can you think that? Don't you know we'd do anything for you?"

"No," said Spencer, shaking his head.

"It's true," insisted Ryan. He took a step forward. "It's not pity, not convenience, not protection. Fuck, you never fucking _listen_, never _believe_ what's right in front of you."

"Ryan," said Spencer. He couldn't believe it, but Ryan was deadly serious, voice monotone but eyes burning bright. That's what scared Spencer, because he knew that this was real. The possibilities were there, waiting for him. He held his hand out, sure that they were shaking. "I don't know what to do," he said. He glanced at Brendon, to see him looking back at Spencer. His other hand reached out for Brendon. Both of them reached for him at the same moment and all three of them crashed together in a tangle of limbs and nerves.

"You don't even know," whispered Brendon, words muffled into Spencer's throat. Throat aching, Spencer just clutched them both tighter, eyes squeezed shut and lips pressed against  
Ryan's temple.

"What about Jon?" he whispered. "I've seen, I've seen him looking."

"I know," said Ryan. "I know, it's so weird, I don't know what to do."

"I know what I want to do," said Brendon. His voice was small, but firm and sure. "I want you all. I want to be greedy."

"All four of us," said Spencer. "All four, god, what would that even-" Ryan cut him off, fingers tightening on the back of Spencer's neck.

"I don't know how it would work," he said, "but don't you _want_?"

"Fuck," breathed Spencer. He could just about taste how good it would be, if it worked out. "I do want it."

"Please," added Brendon, for all the world like he was asking for an extra slice of pie with his dinner. Spencer couldn't help the chuckle that burst out of him. It was infectious and they were all laughing within seconds, still clinging to each other. The door banged open behind them and Spencer looked up to see Brent stroll in, a flicker of expression that Spencer didn't recognise on his face. Ryan and Brendon sobered too, turning their heads to look at Brent too.

"None of you done with the shower, yet?" Brent asked. He didn't wait for an answer, just grabbing his bag and disappearing into the bathroom.

"There are two stalls," said Brendon. "I still haven't had a shower." Spencer laughed again, soft and a little rueful.

"You go and have one," he said. "I need a drink first, anyway." The three of them broke apart, smiling still, and Spencer wondered what the fuck he was getting himself into. Then he looked at Brendon and Ryan and how they were looking at him, and he knew. He had never been so sure.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Spencer sat nervously on the edge of the sofa and fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt. The dressing room was empty, Ryan and Brendon having pledged an hour of solitude, and Brent fucked off wherever the hell it was he went during the days. Spencer frowned. He wasn't sure what was going on there. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, and he didn't want to put in the effort to find out. Brent would sort himself out.

The door opened and Jon slipped inside, beaming as he caught sight of Spencer. He locked the door behind him and crossed to the sofa, standing in front of it, between Spencer's spread legs. Spencer looked up his body, from the strong thighs that brushed his to Jon's groin, nervously skipping past that to look over his slightly rounded belly, up his strong arms and shoulders. He licked his lips as he met Jon's gaze.

"I kinda feel like I should sit down and make small talk and find out your views on breakfast cereal or whatever," said Jon. "But if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to climb straight into your lap and skip to the kissing." Spencer's finger's flexed on his thighs, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Jon and doing just that.

"Sit down," Spencer said. His voice was hoarse and turned on. Jon smirked and sat next to him on the couch. Their thighs brushed together and Spencer wanted to push him over onto his back and crawl on top of him, but he thought of Brendon and Ryan and their hopeful smiles as they had kissed him on his cheek and left together. He was sure they had been holding hands as they turned the corner. "I did want to talk with you, actually."

"That sounds ominous," said Jon. His voice was light, but Spencer saw his fingers twist together and recognised nervousness in the gesture. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Jon's, stilling their movement.

"It's a good talk, I hope," he said. Jon smiled and turned his hand over, linking their fingers together.

"Go on, then," he invited. Spencer looked down at their joined hands.

"It's about something Brendon said to me." He looked up and met Jon's gaze. "I didn't believe him at first, but then Ryan said it too." Spencer watched as the first shades of comprehension spread over Jon's face.

"I thought you said it would be a good talk," he said.

"I hope it will be," Spencer replied.

"But if Brendon or Ryan told you, finally told you, that they were in love with you, that can't end well for me," said Jon. Spencer thought he could feel Jon's hand shaking under his, so he squeezed tighter.

"But it can," said Spencer. "No, listen to me, Jon, it can, because it's not just me, or them or you. It's all of us, don't you see?"

"All?" asked Jon. He looked skeptical, but Spencer thought he could see a sliver of hope under there.

"All," said Spencer. "It's not just me that's in love with them, and it's not just me that's in love with you."

"In love?" echoed Jon. He looked a little dazed. Biting his lip, Spencer considered whether he should qualify that. What he felt for Jon wasn't the bone-deep need to protect that he felt for Ryan, nor the affectionate, dorky, heart-warming emotion he held for Brendon. But it was something big, already bigger than he could justify to himself on such short acquaintance.

"I think so," said Spencer. "I mean, I'll understand - we'll understand - if you don't, if this isn't something that you want." He looked down at their joined hands again for a moment, then up to meet Jon's gaze. "But we think it's worth all the risks. We want this." Jon looked at Spencer, meeting his eyes squarely.

"I've thought about this," he admitted. "Fuck, you're all-" He broke off and leaned forward to kiss Spencer softly. Spencer returned it, the press of slightly parted lips against his giving him confidence. Jon pulled back a tiny bit, still close enough that Spencer could feel his lips move when he spoke. "You're all crazy," he said. "I'm fucking crazy too."

"Is that a yes?" asked Spencer, almost holding his breath with anticipation.

"I'm not even sure what you're asking me," said Jon. "The answer is yes, anyway." He pushed forward further, letting go of Spencer's hand to climb over and straddle his lap. Spencer laughed in surprise. He'd never expected Jon to agree so easily, or even agree at all to something so fantastical. Sliding his hands up Jon's thighs to frame his hips, Spencer tilted his head to press a kiss to Jon's throat.

"It was a good talk, right?" he said into Jon's skin. "I wasn't expecting you to agree so easily."

"Oh, if you were expecting resistance, how about you show me your persuasion," replied Jon. Spencer laughed again, biting gently on Jon's throat.

"That was a pretty tragic line," said Spencer.

"It's gonna work though, right?" asked Jon. His hand cupped the back of Spencer's neck and his thumb stroked back and forth under his ear. Shivering, Spencer's fingers dug into Jon's hips tighter.

"Yeah, it's gonna work," said Spencer. He dragged his lips over Jon's skin, mouthing over all the tender points. Gasping, Jon shifted, bringing himself closer to Spencer. His free hand threaded into Spencer's hair and tugged his face up so he could drag him into a devouring kiss. Spencer kissed back, rasping his tongue over Jon's lip before biting it gently and tugging. Jon's mouth was demanding, hungry, his tongue mapping Spencer's mouth before he drew back to suck on his lower lip. Spencer moaned softly and shifted under Jon, hands sliding under his shirt to splay across the bare skin of his back. Spencer dug his nails in a little, dragging gentle furrows over the sensitive flesh. He loved the way Jon jerked and moaned under his hands, sounding needy and desperate and so turned on. He felt desperate himself, hot and flushed, panting into the tiny space between their parted lips.

"You're so fucking hot," said Jon, working his way down Spencer's neck with his teeth and tongue, interspersing his kisses with his mumbled words. Both his hands moved down to tug on Spencer's shirt. "Take this off, c'mon," he urged. Spencer dragged Jon's shirt up as he moved. Jon pulled his own shirt roughly over his head before returning to slip Spencer's off. Gasping as their chests rubbed together, Spencer returned his fingers to Jon's back, stroking down his spine with dragging nails and rough fingertips. Jon continued to move downwards, nibbling on Spencer's collarbone while his hands trailed over Spencer's chest and shoulders.

"Jon," said Spencer. He knew his voice sounded wrecked, on the edge of begging. He wanted more of Jon. Groaning in surprised pleasure, Spencer moved one hand up to tangle in Jon's hair as Jon sucked on his nipples. "Kiss me again," Spencer said. Jon grinned up at him, dark-edged, almost predatory. Spencer felt no apprehension at all, merely lustful anticipation.

Spencer's phone went off then, making them both jump. The Disney ringtone was shrill and insistent. Sighing, Spencer tipped his head back against the cushions.

"Brendon," he said. "We have to answer or he'll freak out and keep ringing." Jon reached behind him and retrieved the phone from the low table, fumbling with the buttons to set it on speaker phone.

"Spencer, Spencer, are you there?" Brendon asked. Spencer could hear the worry hidden inside his overly bright tone.

"Yeah, I'm here," he said. "So's Jon."

"Is he?" asked Brendon. "What did he say? Oh, is this on speaker? Can you hear me, Jon Walker?" Jon muffled a laugh in Spencer shoulder before turning his head to reply.

"Yeah, I'm here. What do you want to hear me say?"

"Spencer hasn't asked you yet?" squawked Brendon. "I suppose the two of you have just been making out and Spencer forgot all about me and Ryan."

"We certainly have been making out," said Jon. "Fuck, Spencer looks hot when he's been kissed like this." Spencer swallowed hard and nearly dropped the phone. His arousal had faded since the phone rang, but Jon's words made him remember just how close they were to each other, conscious of Jon's hands still on his bare skin. Spencer felt a surge of possessive pleasure, and he wanted to share it with Brendon.

"He said yes," Spencer said. He moved his free hand down, raking his fingernails over the smooth skin of Jon's lower back, listening as Jon groaned and Brendon's breath caught. "He said _yes_."

"I'd say yes to anything, Brendon," said Jon. His voice was wrecked, low and breathy.

"Stop, guys, this is unfair," said Brendon. "I'm in _public_." Spencer heard a confused jumble of noise at the other end, muffled like Brendon had his hand over the mouthpiece. Spencer buried his smile in Jon's neck.

"I've never kissed a boy," announced Brendon, coming back onto the line. Jon groaned a little at that. "Ryan's right here; I could change that right now."

"Fuck, you have no idea how he's looking at me, I could eat him up," said Ryan. "Hi, Jon and Spencer, by the way."

"Hi, Ryan," said Jon. "Don't kiss him now, I want to see it."

"I want to see it too," said Spencer. "Please, let's wait. Hotel night tomorrow." Jon went very still above Spencer, and Ryan and Brendon were silent at the other end of the phone. Spencer was terrified, for a moment, that he'd gone too far or overstepped some mark that he hadn't seen. Then Jon breathed out on a shuddering sigh and hugged him.

"You're a genius, Spencer Smith," he said. "I'd love to come to your hotel room tomorrow."

"Okay," agreed Brendon. "I can wait." He sounded a little like he was trying to convince himself.

"I'm going to go crazy, keeping my hands off you guys, now that I know I'm allowed to touch," said Ryan.

"Don't talk about it," begged Spencer. "Let's wait, I want to wait."

"Okay, okay, we're coming back now, and we're going to _not_ touch each other until tomorrow night, okay?" asked Brendon.

"Okay," agreed Jon, already edging off Spencer's lap, although reluctantly. Spencer let him go, wanting to touch him again but reining the desire in. He could wait. He knew that tomorrow night couldn't come soon enough, but it would be worth the wait.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

Spencer could hardly sit still the next day. The night had been bad enough, curled into his blankets, _knowing_ that the others were right there, within reach. He hadn't been able to touch himself, couldn't content himself with jerking off with the thought of sex with Jon, Ryan and Brendon ahead of him. He'd woken early, jittery and unable to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes. All he could do was look at Ryan's hipbones peeking out between his shirt and his pants and think about kissing over the skin there, or watch Brendon lick his lips and think about how he would taste. Jon was the worst, because he already knew how he looked, how he sounded when he was turned on, and all Spencer wanted was to push him over the edge and watch him come.

Spencer shook his handful of change, staring at the vending machine and unable read the whole list of drinks on offer without getting distracted by thoughts of his _boyfriends_. The figure settling against the wall next to the machine barely registered in his peripheral vision, until he cleared his throat. Spencer glanced over to see Tom smiling at him, nervously.

"Hi," said Tom. Spencer stopped the movement of his hand, letting his clenched fists settle on his hips.

"Hello," he replied, warily. This was the first time he'd seen either Mike or Tom alone since he'd first found out the truth about them, and he wasn't quite sure of how to respond even to something as simple as Tom's greeting.

"Um, I wanted to say sorry," said Tom. The skin around his eye was still faintly discoloured, the merest trace of yellowish green marring his skin. Spencer wasn't expecting an apology at all. He blinked and shoved aside thoughts of watching Brendon kissing Ryan for the first time, trying to concentrate on Tom's words.

"Sorry?" Spencer echoed. Tom shifted from foot to foot nervously, watching Spencer and chewing on his bottom lip.

"Yeah, I mean, I know it wasn't fair to you, to lead you on like that," Tom said. He touched the corner of his eye, as if testing the bruise. "It's just. Fuck. I don't even know, it's so messed up."

"You're sorry?" Spencer shook his head, trying to concentrate on what Tom was saying.

"Yeah, Mike and I.... Well, I mean, neither of us should have used you like that. And I'm sorry. I was sorry even before Jon punched me."

"It's okay," Spencer said, and he found that it was mostly true. There was still a tiny sore spot there, when he thought about Mike and Tom and how they had played him, but it was no longer sharp and unbearably hurtful. He managed to smile at Tom.

"You've still got a pretty smile," blurted Tom. "That part, I mean, it's not like the whole thing was a lie." He shifted again, moving away from the wall. "But, I mean, I know you're Jon's now, and Mike and I... well, I don't know. I don't know anything at all when it comes to him." Tom's mouth curved down in an unhappy line for a moment. "But, um. Sorry?"

"You've already said that. And you're forgiven," said Spencer. Tom smiled then, relieved, and Spencer felt something ease inside him too, maybe the last remnants of worry about Mike or Tom making a scene, or telling everyone about what a fool Spencer had been.

"Good," said Tom, "that's good." He pushed away from the wall and hovered uncertainly for an instant before smiling again and walking away down the hall. Spencer watched him go, replaying the scene in his head. Arms wrapped round him from behind and Spencer tensed for an instant before he recognised Brendon's voice.

"Okay, baby?" he asked.

"Did you just call me 'baby'?" replied Spencer. He slid his hand over Brendon's where it rested on his waist, settling into the embrace. Brendon was just a little too short for it to be comfortable having his chin digging into his shoulder, but Spencer didn't care.

"I did," confirmed Brendon. "I get to do that now that you're my boyfriend."

Spencer squeezed Brendon's hand and grinned, even though he couldn't see it. He watched Tom reach the end of the hallway and stop, Mike stepping out from a room and standing close, fingers twisting in the hem of Tom's t-shirt as they talked. Pressing a quick kiss to Tom's jaw, Mike tugged him back into the room. When they were gone, Spencer closed his eyes and breathed deep.

"How do we all know that we all want the same thing?" asked Spencer. He realised that was the question that had been niggling under the surface, under the intensity of his desire for the three of them. Seeing Tom and Mike had reminded him.

"We talk," said Brendon, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. "And you are not making us a questionnaire, Spencer, don't even think it."

"Aw, baby," protested Spencer, "that questionnaire was an awesome idea."

"If you think I am going to use any of my hotel night answering questions on a sheet of paper when I could be having sex with my smoking hot boyfriends, then you must be crazy," said Brendon. "Also, _I_ call _you_ baby, not the other way round."

"Can I call you 'snookums', then?" Spencer laughed as Brendon's nails dug into the soft skin of his side, just above the waistband of his jeans.

"Who the hell says that?" asked Brendon.

"I'll think of something," Spencer promised. "Something good, something that suits you." Brendon hummed agreeably into his shoulder, smoothing his fingers in circles over the tiny indents his nails had left. "That's what boyfriends do, after all."

"It is," agreed Brendon. "You're an awesome boyfriend already, and I haven't even kissed you."

"I'm not turning round now, because I know I won't be able to help myself," said Spencer. He was only half joking. The thought of watching Brendon kiss a boy for the first time made his skin crawl with lust.

"I want you to kiss me first," Brendon said. Spencer barely stifled his moan, hardly held himself back from turning round, backing Brendon into the nearest flat surface and claiming the kiss now. "Tonight," whispered Brendon, voice barely audible in Spencer's shoulder, "with Jon and Ryan watching. I want them watching us both."

"Fuck," breathed Spencer. "Yes, okay, yes, whatever you want." Brendon's fingers tightened again, just once more, before he pressed a light kiss to the back of Spencer's neck and let go completely.

"Tonight," said Brendon, stepping away.

"Yeah," said Spencer. It sounded like a promise.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

When the door to his hotel room finally shut behind him, Spencer sagged against it for a moment before wearily straightening up and taking his bag over to the beds. Ryan grinned at him, sharp-edged and nervous, and disappeared into the bathroom for a shower. He hadn't managed to get one at the venue before the hot water ran out. Spencer didn't mind. Tomorrow was a rest day, the first in two weeks, and Spencer was sure he'd get a shower tomorrow. Maybe with someone else; they could conserve water and he could get his back scrubbed. Digging through his bag, Spencer dug out the box of condoms he'd been carrying since the tour started. It was battered but had never been opened. From the side pocket, he pulled a bottle of lube. He wasn't sure if this was where their relationship was going to go, but he wanted to be prepared anyway. Dropping them into the bedside cabinet, he shut it hastily as there was a knock at the door and the water in the bathroom shut off. That was the quickest shower Ryan had had since he was twelve.

Brendon was bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking equal parts nervous and excited, not even aware of Jon approaching down the hallway. He brushed past Spencer and inside, toeing off his shoes and heading straight to bounce experimentally on the bed. Spencer waited for Jon to come in too before he shut the door. He took off his own shoes and socks, Jon doing the same next to him, as Brendon watched them both with a hungry gaze. The bathroom door opened and Ryan walked out on a billow of steam. He was wearing a thin t-shirt and pyjama pants, skin damp. Spencer had seen him like that dozens, maybe hundreds, of times, but he'd never noticed, or maybe allowed himself to notice, how Ryan's hair curled round his ears, or the sharp jut of his collarbone that Spencer wanted to lick over.

"Spencer should come and kiss me now," said Brendon. He was lying back against the pillows, arms folded behind his head. Jon moved to perch on the side of the bed.

"Spencer should kiss Brendon now," he agreed. "Ryan and I should watch." Ryan crossed to sit next to Jon, Jon's arm circling him and pulling him against his body. Spencer looked at the three of them, sitting on the bed waiting for him. He felt like he should put on some kind of a show for them, but he knew that there was no need for pretending or theatrics tonight. Tonight was about exploring what felt good between them all, about the trust they put into each other. Spencer crossed the floor, crawling onto the bed on his hands and knees. He moved up until he was balanced above Brendon, looking down at him, but still conscious of Ryan and Jon's eyes on them both.

Dropping a little closer, Spencer tilted Brendon's face with his thumb, stroking over the skin. He licked his lips as he lowered his head, watching Brendon mirror the movement. The first touch was soft but not hesitant. He swiped his tongue over Brendon's lower lip before tugging gently with his teeth, urging him to open up to the kiss. Brendon yielded to him, following his lead into a kiss that was gentle and full of lust. Spencer could feel Brendon's hands on his shoulders, and as he deepened the kiss he heard either Jon or Ryan groan behind him. Breaking the kiss to take a shuddering breath, Spencer craned his neck to see Ryan and Jon looking at them. Brendon bit Spencer's neck gently and Spencer moaned softly, seeing Ryan bite his lip and his fingers twitch as he watched. He turned back and kissed Brendon again, harder this time. Brendon dug his fingers into Spencer's shoulder and arched up against him. Spencer pressed closer, bringing their hips together and gasping into the kiss as their dicks rubbed together.

Pulling right back this time, Spencer sat up on his heels, drinking in the sight of Brendon below him, dishevelled and rumpled with his lips swollen and face flushed. "Ryan," said Spencer, "you should kiss Brendon now." Without looking, Spencer could feel Ryan shift, stripping off his shirt and crawling over the bed. He pressed a quick kiss to Spencer's shoulder as he passed before he started low on Brendon's belly, moving up with wet, open-mouthed kisses and slow drags of his tongue. Brendon whimpered and squirmed, fisting his hands in the sheets. "You can touch," said Spencer, watching as Brendon's hands grabbed onto Ryan, moving over every bit of skin he could get to.

"Hi," said Jon. He'd moved, now sitting behind Spencer. When Spencer tilted his head and smiled, Jon moved even closer, bracketing Spencer's thighs with his own. Reaching back, Spencer twined one hand in Jon's hair and pulled him closer, tilting his own head to meet Jon's mouth. Jon's hands felt hot on Spencer's skin, resting on his waist. A loud moan dragged his attention back to the bed and the way Ryan was sucking on Brendon's neck. As Spencer watched, Ryan moved up the last bit, leaning his weight on one elbow and cupping Brendon's jaw with his other hand. Brendon's eyes fluttered open, so dark and dazed that Spencer shuddered and Jon breathed out a groan into Spencer's neck. Ryan kissed like the most subtle of sciences, following all of Brendon's cues perfectly. When Ryan pulled back, they both looked wrecked.

"Fuck, how is this even my life?" muttered Jon into Spencer's shoulder. Spencer laughed softly.

"You need to get some clothes off and kiss Brendon too," said Spencer. "Ryan needs to come here." They obeyed, Jon getting right off the bed to slip off his t-shirt before taking Ryan's place. Spencer watched Ryan shift, pulling away and crawling towards him. He reached out and tugged Ryan closer and into his lap. It was awkward, with Spencer still sitting between Brendon's spread legs, and Ryan was laughing too by the time Spencer made a triumphant noise and kissed his throat. He sobered suddenly and kissed Spencer's forehead softly.

"I never thought I'd get to do this for real," he said.

"I'm sorry I never realised it could be real," said Spencer.

"Don't be," said Ryan. "It would never have worked without all of us. We need each other." Spencer knew it was true, but it still laid an air of bittersweetness on the moment, as he pulled Ryan forward the last little bit and kissed him properly. Ryan melted against Spencer, pliant and greedy for more. It wasn't like how either of them had kissed Brendon, it was different, less exploratory and more like they already lived in each other's skins.

"That is so fucking hot," said Brendon. Ryan and Spencer parted, Ryan turning his head to see Jon and Brendon staring at them. "I could come just from _watching_ you."

"Please don't," said Spencer. "Not yet. We need to all get naked. More kissing." He mouthed a kiss of his own over the exposed line of Ryan's throat. He wanted more, he wanted someone to fuck him. He looked up, catching the heated, loving gaze Ryan was directing at him. "I want Ryan to fuck me," he blurted. Ryan's fingers tightened on his shoulders, and his look turned predatory.

"Yes," Ryan said. He tipped Spencer's head back up, kissing him with an edge of desperation. Spencer felt the bed shift around them, though he kept on kissing. He broke for air as other fingers landed on his skin, trailing down his sides. Brendon kissed his neck as Jon smiled at him over Ryan's shoulder.

"We can get naked, now, right?" asked Brendon, mumbling into his skin.

"Yes," said Spencer. He pushed Ryan away a little, back into Jon's arms. "You can kiss me while I strip you."

"You have the best ideas," said Brendon. Spencer crawled off the bed behind him, distracted for a moment by the sight of Ryan and Jon kissing, Ryan with his head tipped back on Jon's shoulder, Jon's hand splayed possessively over Ryan's chest, anchoring him. Brendon tugged on Spencer by his beltloops, fingers already on the button of Spencer's jeans. He got that undone, and the zipper, pushing the rough denim down as he kissed Spencer. The jeans pooled at Spencer's feet and he kicked them away, dropping to his knees in front of Brendon, fingers already fumbling with his waistband. Looking up the lines of Brendon's body, over his chest and skinny arms, to his mouth with its red-bitten lower lip, Spencer imagined what he could do with the three of them.

"Spencer," said Brendon, hoase and uneven. He said it again, higher and with a moan at the end, as Spencer shoved his jeans down and nuzzled against the line of his cock. Spencer wanted to taste.

"I've never done this before," he admitted, getting the jeans the rest of the way down and hooking his fingers in Brendon's waistband. Brendon's hands shook as they found their way to Spencer's shoulders.

"I, oh fuck," said Brendon, "I've never gotten one before. From anyone." Spencer looked up at him, watching the blush steal across his cheeks. He swayed a little, unsteady on his feet as Spencer tugged the cotton down. Spencer turned his head, seeing Ryan and Jon watching them both with dark eyes and indentical rapt expressions.

"One of you needs to hold him up. I want the other one to give me directions and advice," Spencer ordered. This was powerful, a heady feeling, telling the three of them what he wanted and needed. He loved the way they seemed to love it too. He turned his attention back to pulling down the waistband of Brendon's boxers, letting them slide down his thighs. He considered Brendon's cock, flushed red against his belly. It was shiny at the tip and Spencer leaned closer, licking up and over the head. Brendon moaned and Spencer felt strong fingers close over his own on Brendon's hips. He glanced up and met Jon and Brendon's gazes. Brendon looked wrecked already, breathing hard, eyes nearly closed. Jon held him steady, eyes hot and fixed on Spencer. Ryan's lips were gentle on Spencer's shoulder as he knelt next to him.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/la_dissonance/pic/000ch19r)

"Let me help you," he said. Spencer turned his head and kissed him, as soft and familiar as the first time.

"Yeah, show me what to do," he said. Spencer followed Ryan's lead and the pleading of Brendon's voice. He sucked cautiously, letting Ryan take Brendon deeper than he dared to. Brendon's cock was heavy on his tongue, it filled up Spencer's mouth more than he'd anticipated it would. He loved the feeling though, when Brendon's thighs trembled under his hands, when his voice broke as he sobbed out one name after another. He loved the salty taste of Brendon's pre-come and sucked harder, letting Ryan use his hands to drive Brendon higher.

"Oh fuck, Spencer," moaned Brendon, one hand shooting up to tug on his hair. Spencer pulled off just as Brendon came with a shout. He closed his eyes as wetness splashed over his cheekbones and jaw, opening them a few moments later as Brendon sagged into Jon's arms. Spencer licked his lips experimentally and Brendon made a strangled noise, sliding bonelessly to his knees and kissing Spencer, uncaring of the mess smearing between them. His lips were hot, a little uncoordinated. Spencer twisted his hand in Brendon's hair and kissed back, harsh and urgent. He was hard, desperate and uncaring of how he looked with Brendon's come on his face. Jon tilted his face up as Brendon broke the kiss, leaning in and licking up a stripe of come from Spencer's cheek.

"Get on the bed," Jon urged. "I want to watch Ryan fuck you." Spencer nodded and followed him, settling on the bed on his hands and knees. Brendon stretched out underneath him, eyes sleepy and body relaxed. He tenderly wiped Spencer's face with Ryan's discarded t-shirt. Jon propped himself up next to them both as Ryan settled behind Spencer, hands steady on his hips.

"Spencer," said Ryan. Spencer could hear the thread of uncertainty through his voice.

"Do it," urged Spencer. He let a breath out and looked and Jon and Brendon. Jon was stroking his cock, biting his lip. He was gorgeous to look at naked, the flush on his cheeks spreading down his neck and the top of his chest. When Ryan's first finger slid inside Spencer, slick and perfect, better than his solo experiments, Spencer moaned and Jon took his hand away from his cock, smoothing it through Spencer's hair instead.

"You're so fucking hot," he said. Spencer smiled at him, even as Ryan twisted his hand and added another finger, starting to stretch him open.

"Kiss me," he demanded. Spencer felt Brendon's fingers card through his hair and trail over his shoulders as Jon kissed him. He lost track of time in his lust, in Jon and Brendon kissing him in turn, their fingers on his skin, Ryan's careful attention to his ass. He was hard and all his skin was sensitive to the touch of the other three. He was nearly overwhelmed with lust, unable to concentrate on anything more than the next sensation.

"Ready?" asked Ryan. His hands shook on Spencer's hips, but Brendon's hands were soft and sure on his jaw, Jon's purposeful on his shoulders.

"Yeah," said Spencer. "I'll tell you if I want you to stop."

Ryan draped himself over Spencer's back as he started to push in so slowly. "I first thought about this when I was fifteen," he said, mumbling his words into Spencer's shoulder. "I wanted you so badly, but I didn't want to scare you or push you away." Spencer moaned softly at the thought of Ryan wanting him for so long. "I knew that Brendon wanted you too within three days of meeting him. Jon was the same."

"It's true," said Brendon. He smoothed Spencer's hair back. Spencer closed his eyes and concentrated on the feelings, the way Ryan was being so careful with him, the way Brendon was underneath him, grounding him, Jon's focused kisses and solid presence to his side.

"I've never wanted to make this good for someone the way I want to make it for you," Ryan continued. "I want everything for you, for all of us." He stopped moving, then, panting instead into Spencer's shoulder and giving him a chance to adjust. Spencer wasn't entirely sure what to make of the feeling, stretched tight and incredibly full. He wasn't sure if he wanted Ryan to continue or to stop.

"You look so-" said Brendon, breaking off to kiss Spencer's cheek. "Jon, change with me so you and Spencer can get off together while Ryan fucks him." Spencer's eyes flew open and he moved, Ryan gasping and moving with him reflexively. It hurt a little, but then Jon was underneath him, lip bitten red and cock straining up against his belly. Ryan shifted him a little lower, so he rested on his elbows, and Spencer gasped into Jon's collarbone as Ryan started to thrust. Brendon kissed his temple and Jon's hands ran over his arms and down his chest. Spencer had never felt so out of control, unable to stop the noises that spilled from his lips as Brendon found the lube and wormed his hand between Jon and Spencer, starting to stroke Spencer's cock in time with Ryan's thrusts. Jon was getting off too, Spencer could feel the brush of their dicks together. All his focus narrowed to the bed, to the brush of skin together. The pleasure of Ryan's cock in his ass slowly overcoming the pain of penetration, the harsh sounds Jon was making, the slick rhythm Brendon was holding, it all came together for Spencer, leaving him shaking in the middle of them all, unable to do more than give himself over to them.

"Love you," mumbled Ryan, into his shoulder. "Love you all." Jon groaned and bit Spencer's other shoulder and Brendon's hand tightened.

"Me too, love you too," Brendon said, pressing kisses on all three of them. Spencer was gone, then, moaning as he crumbled to pieces through his orgasm, dimly hearing Jon come too, feeling him tense underneath him. He fell forward, held up only by Brendon and Ryan's hands. They eased him down to rest on Jon, unheeding of the come slicked between them. Jon kissed him, off-centre and too fucked out to be any good. Spencer whispered his love into the kiss, making Jon's fingers tighten unevenly on his shoulders as he replied. Spencer groaned as Ryan pulled out, turning his head to see that he hadn't come yet. Brendon grabbed him and tumbled him to the mattress in an enthusiastic display, cock hard again and rubbing against Ryan's as he fumbled the condom off and wrapped his hand, still slick with lube and Spencer's come, around them both. Ryan just moaned and arched into the contact.

Spencer was still panting heavily, clumsily running his hands over Jon's arms and shoulders, relaxing further into the uneven circles Jon was rubbing on his back. Ryan was close, Spencer recognised the sounds he was making from years of sharing a bedroom, months of sharing a van. This felt closer, intimate. Ryan's voice was less harsh than usual, warmer, like he was finding actual satisfaction in getting off. Brendon was close behind, his breath ragged and uneven.

Ryan sobbed as he came, the sound small and broken under Brendon's breathy moan as he came too. Spencer reached out and tugged him close, kissing Ryan's face, his shaking fingers. "You're so good," said Spencer, "love you so much." He leaned a little further over to kiss Brendon too, murmuring the same to him, before he settled back on Jon's chest, making a face as he finally registered the come smeared over his belly.

"Gay sex is messy," said Jon, face serious but eyes dancing. He looked comfortable and relaxed, sprawled underneath Spencer. Spencer sat up, looking down at the three of them below him. Brendon curled around Ryan's back, nuzzling drowsily into his neck. Ryan looked quietly happier than Spencer had ever seen him, one hand splayed on Jon's shoulder. They were beautiful, red-faced, panting, at ease with each other. Spencer was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be this easy, but Jon passed him Ryan's t-shirt so he could clean them both up and Ryan made only a small noise of protest as he took it to clean himself.

"I call a shower with one of you later," said Brendon, voice slurred with sleep in Ryan's shoulder.

"Yeah, sure," said Jon. Spencer settled between Ryan and Jon, suddenly thinking back to the last time the four of them had shared a bed like this. He saw Ryan look at him, clearly thinking the same thing, and smiled. He had never been so happy. Suddenly sure that this was meant to be the one easy thing in the world, he opened his arms to Ryan, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Jon's turn to get the fucking light this time," said Brendon. Spencer just smiled and held on tight.


End file.
